Treading Water
by Thought Reflex
Summary: Drowning had never been a fear Rodney needed to embrace. Trust, relying on others, and having to betray his own secrets, however, was something that kept him awake at night. Friendship, whump, genetic manipulation, homicidal tree huggers…
1. No Shirt, No Shoes, No Service

**Disclaimer: **SGA belongs to other people. No profit is being made (it's laughable really). The actors belong to themselves, unless they'd like to belong to me? *blinks hopefully.* Yeah, somehow I didn't think they'd agree to that either.

**Summary:** Drowning had never been a fear Rodney needed to embrace. Trust, relying on others, and having to betray his own secrets, however, was something that kept him awake at night. Friendship, whump, genetic manipulation, homicidal tree huggers…

**Rating: **PG13

**Spoilers:** N/A

**Genres:** Science Fiction, Action & Adventure (it's like a two for one deal), Friendship, Angst…do I really need to keep going?

**Author's Notes:** I have had the first part of this story written pretty much before I posted my first SGA fic. What can I say, this story line just intrigues me (it might be a not so secret obsession, which I am aware makes me a very strange person) and it needed to be completed.

A big thanks goes out to Laryn for all the fine editing!  When I first told her about this idea she wasn't overly enthusiastic, so the fact that she is agreeable with it now makes me all warm and fuzzy inside. You also have her to thank for suggestions which led to more scenes. They're good ones, trust me ;)

Also, if you're interested in some mediocre, homespun art, you can find it at my livejournal, or at the link in my profile.

Please enjoy.

**Treading Water**

**Chapter 1: No Shirt, No Shoes, No Service**.

It wasn't so much the fact that Rodney didn't trust anyone… He did trust, or more specifically he could trust if he wanted to. After all, he allowed people to place their trust in him all the time. He knew that if trust had been given or received it could, theoretically, be counted on. But if there was one thing that life had taught him, it was that trust was also an illusion. It was a gift that people gave themselves so they could feel as though they had purposeful bonds with others, so that they could feel as though they weren't completely alone. Suffice to say Rodney didn't really trust anyone, but he worked hard so that he knew _they_ could always trust _him_ and he would never break that trust for as long as he could do anything about it.

_Anything_.

Fuck.

"Is there anything we can do?" Sheppard asked loudly as he looked between Rodney and Radek, his posture straight enough to state the severity of the situation even without the hard edge in his voice.

"We have to get out now! There is no time to get SCUBA equipment here and even if we tried by then it would be too late to swim all the way down to that deck to fix this. We could not even get them air in time!" Radek yelled above the din of soldiers and scientists moving out of the corridor they were in. In a few moments they would finally be on safer ground. The Czech was completely soaked in saltwater, his hair was plastered to the side of his face and water droplets were stuck to his glasses obscuring his eyes. He made not attempt to try and clear his vision.

Rodney looked at Radek and then at Sheppard and Ronon. The water was beginning to rise past their knees, its chill seeping into his bones and doing nothing to ease his panic.

"Are you kidding me! We have to try! There are three people trapped down there!" Rodney loudly added his opinion and gesturing wildly to emphasize his point, almost smacking John in the face.

"I know!" Zelenka snapped back, desperation in his voice.

"Not good enough! Sheppard, if we don't shut the door to that subsection then we could lose this entire pier! We're talking about destabilizing the entire city here!" Rodney added fiercely

"We have no choice! We stay and we all drown!" Rodney didn't need Radek to tell him that, he already knew that. Of course he knew that! It was kind of difficult to miss, even for an idiot, but he was stalling. Rodney was being a damn coward and stalling so that he could work up the nerve to do what had to be done. He jerked when Sheppard's hand gripped his arm and he looked at his best friend, seeing the soldier in him already adding the two scientists and one marine to their losses. Casualties of a stupid accident that occurred for no better reason than that the city was old and shit happened.

"There's nothing we can do!" Sheppard determined loudly over the sound of rushing water, his eyes drifting momentarily to the stairwell where the water was seeping steadily in from the lower decks. It was where they had all just scrambled up to escape. "We're pulling back! We'll lock down this level and try to save as much of this section as possible!" He ordered and started to pull Rodney away from the flooded stairwell. Ronon and Radek began moving through the water with them.

There was no more time for stalling.

"No," he said, stopping in his tracks firmly and John almost tripped over his own feet at the abrupt change of pace. The solider turned angry eyes on him, eyes that spoke too much about the pain and regret and loss he clearly felt. Eyes that demanded Rodney not make this any more difficult then it already was.

"McKay," he started but Rodney was having none of it. He really had waited too long to act and he hoped to god he wasn't too late now. _Coward_ he thought bitterly, and inhaled sharply through his nose to steady himself.

"You heard me, Colonel." He thrust his computer (why he'd held on to it for so long he had no idea) into Ronon's chest and then quickly plunged his arms beneath the cold water. Water that was almost at waist level now. He untied his boots enough to kick them and his socks off, hopping ridiculously for a moment as he accomplished the task.

"This is no time to have a fit, McKay," Sheppard snarled and went to grab Rodney's arm again, but Rodney, using reflexes he was slowly honing through training with Teyla, grabbed his wrist before he had a chance to make contact and he looked John right in the eye.

"I'm going back, and I'm going to fix this." He said firmly, hoping the tremble he felt in his throat didn't carry to his words. He let go of John's arm and then pulled his blue shirt off, ignoring the shocked faces of those around him. He couldn't really blame them for their reactions; he'd probably think his friend was crazy too if he started stripping down in the middle of an emergency. But that was where the show stopped and after making sure his tool belt was still secured to his waist he stepped back from his little group.

"Rodney, what the hell are you doing! We don't have time for this!" John was snapping, and there was a hint of panic in his eyes. "This is suicide!"

"No, it's not, John. Trust me," he pleaded, hitting below the belt and knowing it had the desired effect as John recoiled slightly, his eyes widening. Ronon wasn't as affected by the words and he moved forward with the obvious intent of dragging Rodney out of there with or without his consent.

"Trust me," he said again, stepping away from them and closer to his target, trying to hide his own fear, fear that wasn't what they thought it was. He looked Ronon in the eye. "You're a runner, Ronon. I'm a swimmer." That stopped the big man, and it was enough that Rodney could take the three giant steps to the stairwell and squeeze through the almost shut door. He dove without hesitation into the cold water and began swimming down the stairs, further into the deepwater. Despite all of the water the city's lights were still illuminating the way. John screaming his name echoed painfully in his head.

oooOOOooo

Colonel John Sheppard rushed the door that a shirtless, shoeless Dr. Rodney McKay had just disappeared through, yelling out his name. Rodney had asked him to trust him, and he had…for three seconds before common sense took over and he realized that allowing his friend to go on a suicide run was the last thing he should trust Rodney about. He could still stop him. He could still see him swimming, his bare feet kicking swiftly beneath the swirling water, and if he could see him, he could get to him and drag him back to the proper side of sanity because he was not about to lose Rodney! He wasn't!

"Sheppard!" Ronon bellowed and grabbed him bodily, his thick arm wrapping around and across his chest as Rodney's feet disappeared around the bend in the stairwell and John was dragged away from the door. "Let him do what he has to do," Ronon growled in his ear and John twisted sharply, shoving the enormous man away from him with an ease born of adrenalin, but he didn't rush back to the stairs despite the desperation he felt. It was too late now, Rodney was gone. He was gone, and they hadn't done anything but listen to his pleas to let him go.

John took a deep breath, shoved his wet hair roughly out of his eyes and, without a word, began forcing his way through the waist high water to the next stairwell. Rodney had already closed off this corridor, all they had to do was make sure everyone was in the stairwell and they could close that off as well. The water couldn't go anywhere else, at least not immediately. They hoped. Silently Radek and Ronon followed him; they were the last to leave and John, signing the death warrant on his friend, closed the door and began to ascend the stairs.

There were cases where cold water drowning victims, being pulled up from the deep after forty minutes, had still survived. It was rare. They were usually children. Rodney had a large lung capacity, but even the best-trained swimmers, the Navy fucking Seals, couldn't hold their breaths as long as he needed to now. Christ.

At the top of the stairs it was a matter of minutes to make sure everyone was accounted for, ensuring they made it into the transport and back to the safer areas of the city.

"Sir," Major Lorne called out as they approached. He had been at the lead of the escaping group, helping everyone find their way. He stopped and looked at him, his frown increasing as he took in the other two members of Sheppard's party. "Where's McKay?" The few scientists left, waiting for transport, stilled at the question and looked over at them, their eyes widening.

"Not now, Major," he ordered and Lorne, knowing what the look in his eyes meant, stood taller and didn't say another word. In the time it took to ascend the stairs John had developed an obsession with checking his watch. Six minutes had now passed since Rodney had disappeared under the water.

Another minute ticked by before they spilled out of the transport closest to the control room. A deep silence had settled between them as Sheppard led Ronon, Radek and Lorne (the other two scientists having gone to the labs) into the control room to see the expected flurry of activity on the upper level. John could feel a coldness seeping into his bones as every second passed. He couldn't trust Rodney, he couldn't trust the man to not do something stupid like this. And for what! He looked at his watch, his eye twitching against his will. Nine minutes.

He took the stairs to the control room two at a time and paused at the top, quickly scanning the group before waiting to be acknowledged by Weir so he could report. It seemed the other three in his entourage were completely willing to follow his lead as they froze there as well, crowding behind him and having nothing else to do. Well, Radek probably did, but he had been close to Rodney as well and John was willing to let this slight in professionalism go due to shock.

"It seems to be working!" The Canadian at the console, who had Weir practically draped over his shoulder as she studied his readings, yelled out. Then in an enthusiastic move he jumped up, his chair just missing the city's leader as it rolled back. "It's working! He did it! He actually did it! Water intake has been halted and there's still enough air in the room for them to keep breathing for another few hours. By then the draining systems should be working and as pressurization increases the water will be forced out of the city. They're going to be fine!" Cheers went up all around and John was having a really hard time understanding what was going on, and frankly, as long as the crisis was averted he didn't care. He was desperately trying not to care about anything right now.

The world record for holding ones breath, while free diving, was just under ten minutes.

"Elizabeth," he called, and cursed when his voice actually cracked slightly. She looked over at him, a smile on her lips.

"Colonel, I don't know how you managed to get the equipment to Rodney in time, but you did a damn fine job!" She enthused and he stared at her. He tried not to hate her for being so happy while in ignorance over what they had lost.

Whom they had lost.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Weir, but we didn't get any equipment to Rod-Dr. McKay," he pulled himself to his full height and refused to look her in the eyes. "We were unable to stop Dr. McKay from heading back into the water. I don't know what's going on, but it wasn't Rodney. He…" John stopped, took a breath and forced himself to look into her green eyes. He shook his head, trying to convey his message in silence. Her eyes widened and then she looked back at the lieutenant's console that lay before her and back at John.

"What are you talking about? Rodney reached the subsection and managed to manually override the doors. He closed them," she declared and John frowned as Radek decided to speak up.

"No, is impossible. It is maybe six, seven minute swim to reach and then two minutes work. Rodney has large lungs, but even he cannot hold breath that long." He declared and began moving past John and into the control room. "You must have done something here to shut door."

"We didn't do anything sir, it was all Dr. McKay." The Canadian Lieutenant declared, beginning to look confused. "I'm sure he'll tell you all about it," he said, trying to lighten the air and John looked at him sharply, shutting him up instantly.

"It's impossible," Radek said again.

"McKay didn't have a breathing apparatus, Elizabeth. There is no way he could have made it to that subsection," John said and hated the dawning confusion that was slowly replacing her previously relieved features.

"That's impossible," she breathed out.

"Dr. Weir-" he started again, because she had to understand what had happened and she wasn't listening to him.

"No, Colonel, I'm telling you that's impossible," she pointed at the console before her. "Rodney made it there, and in a few minutes he'll be back to your last location, where he split off from you."

"Sensors say this?" Radek demanded and he practically shoved the Lieutenant and Weir out of the way to get to the computer. All of Sheppard's attention honed in on the scientist as his eyes, reading rapidly across the screen before him, searched for answers. Then he looked up and blinked. "Is true, sensors have located Rodney's bio-signature and tracked him. He is still moving, he is still alive. They are all still alive" he declared. Sheppard didn't waste another second as he turned and practically jumped to the control room floor, following Ronon as the large Satedan sprinted to the nearest transport with Lorne hot on their heels.

"Beckett! Medical emergency!" He declared and finished spitting out the directions just before the transport door closed and then opened again. The three soldiers were down the stairwell they had come up ten minutes before in record time and, with a powerful, desperate thought from Sheppard, the door at the base slid open. The water was already lower than when they had left and was lowering even as they rushed towards the partially closed door at the end of the hallway. It refused to open more for John as he approached, being well and truly stuck. He looked around.

"Zelenka! He's not here!"

"He is still approaching Colonel, though his movements are slowing. He is almost at stairwell below you!" The man's accent was so thick with tension John barely understood the Czech, but he heard enough. Water swirled around their knees as they studied the partly opened door.

"Where is he!" Carson suddenly bellowed as he burst into the flooded corridor, "and what the hell is going on!" John didn't bother answering. He wanted this door opened more, and if it wouldn't respond to his mental command then he would open it himself. He grabbed onto its edge and pushed with all his strength, feeling it slide half an inch. A second later Ronon and Lorne were joining him and, with a few big grunts, they managed to force the door almost halfway open. It was enough. John was through it and staring through the choppy water for any sign of his friend.

Sixteen minutes had passed. He was desperate, and while he doubted he would see the man, he was willing to believe anything for a few more minutes of hope. He heard the two medics arrive after Carson, asking where to put the gurney and then, suddenly, Rodney appeared around the stairs bend and was approaching him with wide eyes, his hair swirling around his head like a halo with every stroke.

John leapt into the water, probably doing more harm than good as he went under the surface a few feet and desperately grabbed for Rodney. Finding a solid arm and shoulder he heaved him up the rest of the way.

They broke the surface with John gasping for air, and Rodney gripped in his arm so tightly he'd most likely have finger shaped bruises the next day. Everyone was silent a moment, and it took a second, until McKay took his first deep lungful of air for the shocked spell to break. And Rodney grinned at John, but there was no real humour in his eyes.

"I'm a swimmer," he shrugged, and John sitting on his ass on two steps that were underwater, already shivering from the cold, dragged Rodney into a hug, audience be damned. He didn't know what else to do, he just, he was having a bit of trouble following the events that were currently taking place around him even though his mind and body appeared to be functioning fully. It was while he was holding a startled McKay, who was just beginning to hug back (tentatively) that he realized three things: One, his friend wasn't dead. Two, Rodney was shaking rather violently in John's arms and three, he had very purposely placed John between himself and everyone else crowded just behind John, waiting to help/rescue him.

He let go and slowly pushed Rodney back, holding him at arms length. Rodney's bare arms felt like ice under his hands.

"How are you not dead?" He demanded, his voice rougher than intended.

"Yes, and while you're explaining I would really like to get you out of that water so I can check you out properly," Carson's worried voice ordered from behind him. Rodney's shivering increased and he made no move to follow the physician's request.

"Rodney, we need to get you out of the water," John insisted and Ronon was swiftly slipping into the water on Rodney's other side, intending to help with this task when Rodney jerked back violently, holding his arms out warningly with a slightly panicked look in his eyes.

"Wait, wait. I'm fine, I'm good. There's no need to worry or anything. You didn't by any chance bring my shirt back, did you?" His shirt? Sheppard's eyes narrowed at his friend, his worry increasing. Of all the stupid…

"You know, somewhere between the time you killed yourself and then magically came back to life I must have misplaced it," he snarled, because it was either act worried and aggressive or cry, and John Sheppard did not cry. Rodney flinched away again, not meeting their gazes. It reminded John of trying to settle a beaten animal. What the hell was going on? "Rodney?" He asked, and his desperation to know things were okay must have leaked through because crystal blue eyes suddenly focused their entire intensity on him and John watched as a flurry of thoughts and emotions crossed the scientists face before he settled on determination, and licked his lips.

"You trusted me," he declared quietly and looked over at Ronon as well, and then at Beckett. His gaze lingered the longest on Beckett until the Scottsman cleared his throat.

"Aye, I've always trusted you Rodney, even when yer actin' like a right git." Rodney snorted before nodding his head decisively, a bit of the uncertainty leaking away and his normal persona coming through.

"Then it's time I finally trusted you." He declared and squared his shoulders. What the hell? John thought. What did that mean? McKay hadn't trusted them before?

"Sheppard," Ronon growled and John looked at him, and then at the water where he was pointedly staring. It was turning a light pink. Christ.

"Okay, McKay, it's time to let Beckett fix you up now." Rodney looked down at the water, saw its tint and shrugged, becoming self-conscious again.

"Its okay, it's normal," he declared, but he didn't get much more out as John and Ronon both grabbed an arm and gently dragged him from the water. In three swift moves they had him lying on the stretcher and several hands were holding him in place as Beckett immediately dove on the source of blood, which was smearing with the water running down Rodney's bare stomach.

"What the hell?" Lorne hissed in surprise as Beckett worked efficiently. Sheppard stared, unable to stop himself even as he felt Rodney's eyes on him, and swallowed thickly. The blood was coming from three long gashes that ran along his side and, as the scientist breathed, they lifted and fell gently, small trickles of water leaking out from them. Looking across the pale torso that saw too little sun he saw the exact same thing on the other side.

"Rodney, I need to know what this is lad," Carson asked as he carefully dabbed at the blood while a medic took his pulse and blood pressure. Rodney snorted.

"Well, if that hasn't become obvious to you yet, I think I want another doctor. Maybe a zoologist," he joked, but it sounded hollow and fell flat.

"Rodney, please,"

"They're gills, you're not imagining anything, Carson. Now, if it's all right with you, I think I'm going to pass out now," he declared, and then did just that.

Fuck.

TBC.

I just love science fiction! I hope you do to 


	2. 12 Years

**Chapter 2: Twelve Years**

oooOOOooo

When Rodney woke up it was to darkness, the infirmary lights having been dimmed to simulate the night hours. For a long moment he lay there quietly, listening intently to the sounds around him. There was no steady beeping to indicate that his heart was being monitored and there were no signs of movement in the immediate area. He lifted his head from the pillow and looked around. There were no chairs nearby to indicate the need for visitors. He slowly pushed himself to a seated position, feeling a tug on the back of his hand where the IV tube was taped down, and looked around more carefully. A few beds over Corporal Something-Or-Other from SGA-5 was sound asleep, still recovering from a fever after encountering some tree mold the day before. Rodney stared at him a moment, watching his chest rise and fall steadily, his breathing silent.

On the far side of the room he could see bright light on in one of the storage rooms, filtering out its partially open door. A shadow shifted about within. Right, Rodney thought offhand, Wednesday's were inventory nights for Beckett's staff. After taking stock of the infirmary carefully once he carefully removed the tape holding his IV in place and pulled the catheter out of his hand as gently as possible. He grabbed for the Kleenex at the side of his bed and used it to soak up the drops of blood that tried to escape. Then he pressed his thumb down firmly over the tiny wound and then struggled out from under his blankets as quietly as he could, swinging his legs out to dangle over the side of his medical bed. He frowned at the burgundy scrub pants he had on, and then at the shirt that covered his torso, not remembering dressing in either of them.

He didn't have to move to feel the ache that had made a home on his sides, but he did have to move to feel the thick bandages that were taped securely over them. He lifted the shirt and frowned at the dressings before peeling them off with shaking hands. He looked around the medical bay again, ensuring he was still virtually alone before standing carefully and tossing the almost clean bandages into the wastebasket beside his bed. He crept quickly to the door. Sneaking out in bare feet made it virtually impossible for his footsteps to be heard, even though his feet were freezing, and he made it to his room without running into anyone.

Once inside he let the shaking begin as he stripped off his shirt and dropped it on the floor on his way into the bathroom. He stopped only once he'd reached the mirror and then he stared at himself. There was nothing vain about the look he gave his reflection, but he didn't let the despair he felt flood his features. It had been twelve years, twelve very long years since he had allowed his flesh to slowly grow over the gill filaments adorning his waist, making him appear like any other person. He looked down at himself and carefully pressed his cold fingers to them, feeling the pain of tender flesh but continuing his examination regardless. Sweat broke out on his forehead, but he honestly wasn't sure if it was from the pain or the shock.

"Twelve years," he whispered to himself as he continued gently probing, feeling around the tender, torn flesh. They would hurt for a few days as the skin that had grown over to conceal the gills either healed or simply fell off. It wouldn't be pleasant, but as far as he knew it was perfectly normal. It was what had happened the last two times. With a grimace he moved on to his other side, tempted to pick off the tiny bits of useless skin, but with the way his hands were shaking he would probably remove more than he wanted too. And it hurt.

He stripped off the rest of his clothing and moved into the shower, thinking 'on' even as his back hit the wall and he slid down slowly until his ass was resting on the ground. _Salt water,_ he thought, and jerked as the first of the slightly warm spray slid over the open flesh, stinging him. He hugged his knees to his chest, hiding his face away, and let the water rain on him.

They knew.

He swallowed the thick lump in his throat, trying not to choke around it. They knew now, and there was no going back to the way things had been before. That was already apparent, since he had awoken alone in the infirmary. Yeah it was late, but he had thought one of his team mates would be there, or at least Carson, just to reassure him that things were going to be just fine. That's usually how things went.

When he had lain down on that stretcher he had actually thought things might be okay, possibly, but he knew the bitter reality was that some things were just too weird, too repulsive, to accept off hand or deal with right away. Here, in Atlantis, you expected all levels of unimaginable things when it came to aliens…but people? It was a natural reaction to stay away when you didn't know how to deal with something that didn't belong. Hell, Rodney had stayed away from it for years himself so he couldn't really blame them for wanting their distance. He just wondered what would happen now.

He didn't think they would let it affect his position in Atlantis, but they would ask a lot of questions that he didn't want to answer and if he couldn't be honest with them then he couldn't expect them to…just let it go. God this was such a mess and he couldn't stop his body from shaking and…_twelve years. _He just wanted to go for a swim, to remember the freedom when there wasn't the possibility of death lingering in the water. But he wouldn't go, not yet, maybe never. First he would give himself a few days to heal. Then he could spend some time looking for a place out of the way, a place that was hidden so he could be safe from prying eyes and sea creatures alike. Then maybe he could safely reacquaint his body with the alternate method of living he had denied himself for so long, before he would get rid of them again.

He would have to learn to live with everyone else knowing, learn to deal with how they would treat him and look at him. He'd have to see if life here would still be tolerable and if it wasn't…he didn't know exactly what he'd do if it wasn't. But staying…he breathed out a harsh laugh as he sat there on the floor. He had to accept the fact that staying in Atlantis might no longer be an option.

oooOOOooo

The huge bags under Carson's eyes were a testament to how exhausted he was, but if one needed more evidence then they could see it in his hunched shoulders, pallid skin and enormous cup of coffee. Sheppard knew exactly how he felt, and he gave him a weak smile as he slid into the seat across from him and beside Elizabeth.

It was 2:23am and their table was the only table with human occupancy in the mess hall, if you could call them human at this point. They looked more like zombies. Sheppard nodded at everyone, noting the weariness in Weir's features, the shock in Zelenka's and the confusion in Ronon's. They were already so exhausted and there was so much they still had to learn. So much they didn't know.

"How the hell did he manage to hide something like this?" Elizabeth started, looking to Carson for answers and the good doctor opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying and failing to come up with a response. He looked heart broken.

"I don't know why you're so upset. He's alive, I would have thought that was a good thing," Ronon growled, crossing his massive arms over his chest.

"Aye, it's a bloody good thing! A miracle, and I wouldn't have it any other way," Carson strongly declared. "But ye have te understand Ronon, the fact that we didn't know about this…" he trailed off, once again at a loss for words.

"A human with gills, with the ability to breathe successfully underwater…it's a fantasy on our planet. A myth," Elizabeth tried to answer in her own way.

"It's not natural, and we should have known about it," Sheppard declared, crossing his own arms.

"You gonna send him away because of this?" Ronon asked, his sharp eyes looking to Weir and John dropped his arms and leaned forward on the table, eyes narrowed angrily at the Satedan.

"No. No one is sending Rodney anywhere! The fact that he has gills," he stumbled over the word, which just made him even angrier, "has nothing to do with why we're so angry. It's the fact that he has them and we didn't know. How could we not know something like this? He's spent the last eleven years working for the US government and the last ten of those were in the Stargate program and Area 51. You don't get into these places without very thorough background checks and, more notably, medicals." He looked at Carson again and the man waved his hands around wildly.

"Don't look at me like that! I have nae been hiding this from ye. In fact I'm a bloody fool for not having known. Something like this…it's not a small, easy to miss aspect of one's anatomy. It's a completely separate respiratory system! I mean, good god, his entire torso must be at least slightly altered, but I can't see how except for the rather obvious filaments now flapping away on his waist side. I've done numerous scans of him since arriving in Atlantis, hell, I was even his doctor for a year in Antarctica. I've done tests on him, experiments with the gene therapy and I was working on him without fully understanding how his body worked. I could have killed him…"

"Carson, this is not your fault. He chose to hide this from you and he volunteered for everything you've done to him. Do not begin thinking along those lines," Elizabeth immediately countered, her tone soft yet firm. Carson nodded sullenly and it was clear he was just appeasing her. She looked at Radek. "Did you find anything?"

"Not yet," the man sighed and shook his head. I have examined several Ancient medical devices but there is no sign of tampering that I can find. Not to say I won't find it, I just need more time."

"The sooner the better, because I scanned him again three hours ago and there is no indication of his gills whatsoever in any of the results. I can't trust my instruments on him, they're not working, and therefore I can't help him properly," Carson ground out, his fists clenching.

"Yes, it is obvious he has changed them some way. We all know he is genius, we just did not realize he was also conniving bastard. To have no evidence of tampering…we scan medical equipment every week to ensure its accuracy. To never pick up anything wrong…is almost incomprehensible." Zelenka informed them, shaking his head in either irritation, dismay, or admiration. It was hard to tell with him sometimes.

"So he's been holding out on us," Sheppard leaned back in his seat, a headache begging to ask for attention.

"Obviously!" Carson snapped, and then his face reddened in embarrassment. "Sorry John, this is just…"

"Shocking, mind blowing, absolutely freaking insane? Yep," he agreed easily enough. "But then again McKay does like to make life as interesting as possible," he smiled, accepting the apology.

"I still don't know why you're all so shocked. Wasn't it obvious he was hiding something?" Ronon asked and they all turned to stare at him in shock.

"What do you mean?" Elizabeth asked carefully, and the man shrugged.

"He's always complaining, about stupid little things that don't matter. Puts himself in the spotlight as much as possible, so that when something actually happens people treat it like it's not that bad. I've seen him walk away from examinations without being checked because he complains so much that the medical staff kick him out." Carson's eyes narrowed dangerously at this. "He keeps his distance too, never talks to people about anything that's personally important. I thought you all knew this," he trailed off.

"Well, yeah we knew all that…sort of," Sheppard grimaced.

"I was unaware of my staff's less than professional treatment," Carson growled.

"Yeah well, whatever. What are you going to do about it?" The Satedan asked, apparently more interested in action then talking about it. Hell, the man had probably just used up his word allowance for the month and would revert back to grunts after that speech.

"First he will take me through whatever he has done to equipment with fine tooth comb or else there will be Canadian bacon for breakfast all week," Zelenka huffed.

"Then I'm going to upgrade my files so that I can actually treat him properly if he's ever seriously hurt," Carson growled and Sheppard looked between them.

"Now hold up a second before we all go getting our wet suits in a twist," he leaned forward. "How's Rodney doing?"

"He's been out like a light fer the last ten hours. As we all know his lacerations aren't all that serious, but I suspect the shock to his system, after not having used his gills like that fer who knows how long, is what's put him out of commission. He'll be fine when he wakes up."

"Will he?" Sheppard asked and looked around at the group pointedly. "We're all talking about taking scans of him and having him change the medical equipment back like he'll simply roll over for us. He's done a lot of work to keep anyone from knowing about his gills in the first place, and I'm thinking he won't be too happy with us telling him he can't keep his secrets anymore."

"There's not much we can do on that level John. As chief scientist of this expedition we need to have his full medical file and properly functioning equipment. If he wants to stay here he doesn't have a choice in this matter. That doesn't mean I don't understand what you're saying," Elizabeth forestalled his response quickly. "I have no idea what is going on here or with Rodney. We need to get to the bottom of this as soon as possible but the last thing I want to do is alienate him in the process."

"Good luck with that," Sheppard muttered.

"John," she frowned at him disapprovingly.

"I'm just saying, I doubt he's going to just talk to us. We don't know how he's going to react to us knowing about it now, because if our roles were reversed I don't think I'd be all warm cuddly feelings, you know?"

"I could talk to him," Ronon offered and Sheppard looked at him incredulously.

"Beating it out of him won't get us the results we're after."

"It worked on you." The Satedan frowned at him.

"He's not built like me."

"No kidding, unless you're a fish too?"

"Not that I know of, but I was a bug once…" John raised a eyebrow, effectively not shuddering at the happy memory.

"Gentlemen, this is not helping," Elizabeth pinched the bridge of her nose.

"All I'm saying is that we should give him a day or two to get used to us knowing his big mutant secret before we start diving in with questions."

"What if he is less than willing to see things our way?" Zelenka asked.

"We'll deal with that when the time comes, shall we?" Elizabeth looked around solemnly. "Forgive me for asking this, but I need to know: Is anyone going to have a problem dealing with these new facts about Rodney? Because rumours are already getting out of control and, depending on what Rodney decides to do, he's going to need our full support." She looked imploringly at each of them in turn and Sheppard was glad to note that the only response she received were tired, distraught eyes gazing back. "Well then, let's get some sleep and deal with this in the morning with fresh eyes. It's been a long day."

oooOOOooo


	3. Sea Monkey

**Chapter 3: Sea Monkey**

The alarm on his watch began ringing from its place on his dresser and Rodney slowly turned his head to glare at it blearily. It was six-thirty, time to start a new day, and he knew his eyes were red with lack of sleep. He'd escaped the infirmary three hours ago, spent two hours falling apart in his shower and one hour trying to pull himself back together in the comfort of his bed. It hadn't really worked and his watch was annoyingly reminding him that he had to leave his room and face the music.

Nobody had come to check on him, or to drag him back to Carson with his needles and scans and witchcraft. There were no alarms going off in reaction to his disappearance, no soldiers or marine biologists appearing at his door with suspicious glares or intrigued eyes, dissecting him even with his clothes on. He wasn't sure if this was a good sign or a bad sign, but he supposed he would find out soon enough.

Nobody had come to see if he was okay.

He threw the covers off and stood, quickly moving to his uniform pants and pulling them on. They sat an inch below his bottom filament, thank god, because he didn't think he could deal with his already torn up flesh being further abused. He took a moment to stare at himself in the mirror, all pale flesh that had once been smooth and was now decorated with three angry red, gaping slashes on both sides. He should bandage them again, just to protect the open flesh from rubbing against his shirt, but decided against it. The pain would serve to remind him that he wasn't just Dr. Rodney McKay, genius extraordinaire and saviour of Atlantis and her people several times over anymore. He couldn't pretend to be just that anymore.

He pulled his blue shirt on hastily and then dragged his jacket over top, zipping it up as a bit of extra protection. His socks and shoes were next and he ignored the pain as he bent over and pulled them on. He looked at his watch before putting it on: six thirty-five. The command staff didn't usually filter into the mess hall until a quarter to, so if he hurried he could grab something and head to the labs where he could avoid the whole confrontation thing until the staff meeting at seven thirty. Yes, he was going to avoid this meeting as long as possible.

He entertained the idea of raiding the kitchens, stocking up on food and then hiding in some remote part of Atlantis for a few days like a child. However he knew that wouldn't stop them from finding him, so he quashed any notions of running away. At least for the moment.

The mess hall was beginning to fill up, the morning people gabbing away happily while others moodily sat at their tables hunched over food, not inviting any conversation until their first cup of coffee had been finished. Rodney moved straight to the muffin basket that sat at the end of the breakfast line, grabbing two (still warm) banana nut concoctions before moving quickly to the coffee table. Conversation had slowed drastically upon his appearance, and he knew it wasn't just his paranoia this time. He would get his coffee and then be free of the gazes he could feel on his back. He looked over his shoulder to glare, but no one was looking in his direction at that exact moment. Sneaky bastards.

He finished pouring his coffee, without bothering to take the time to add sugar, and was turning to escape when he came face to face with Lieutenant Kindersley and Dr. Marlow, both watching him carefully from only three feet away. He almost dropped his coffee in surprise.

"What! Are you two practicing stealth skills or something? Go stalk somebody else," he growled, moving to step around them when Kindersley pulled himself to full attention and snapped off a sharp salute.

"Sir," he said softly, mindful of the people watching them. "We heard what you did for us yesterday. Thank you," he said, meeting Rodney's eyes confidently. Rodney blinked, completely thrown off, and then Marlow stepped forward and took the plate with muffins right out of his hand, only to replace it with his own hand and shake it with shocking strength.

"We don't know how you did it McKay, and frankly we don't care. We really thought it was the end for us, and it would have been without you," he said, and then gave Rodney back his muffins.

"Uhhh…" oh god, he was at a loss for words. He didn't know what to do, what to say, how to respond to this? What would Sheppard say? "No problem, just uhh, stay safe and don't… play with things beyond your comprehension…which is just about everything… so just, yeah," and he stepped around them, quickly, and rushed out of the room with a face that he just knew was beet red.

He ignored everyone in the hallway to the point where he didn't know if they were even trying to say hello, and was relieved when he stepped into his private lab, completely alone. Wow, so that had been a new experience. Sure, he was used to people being aware that he'd saved their lives, but they were usually more subtle about their appreciation, if they chose to show any at all. The thank you's came in the form of extra effort put into projects, less grumbling in his presence about the hours he sometimes forced them to work, getting out of his way while he walked down the center of the halls, and snacks that randomly appeared on his desk, all citrus free. That was probably the first time anyone other than Sheppard had thanked him personally for saving his life. It was disconcerting. It also looked like nobody had really figured out exactly how he'd managed to go back and shut off the valve, at least not yet. Those directly involved were probably under orders not to spill the beans, though people had stopped their morning conversations to watch him, which was a bit unusual…most of the time.

He didn't really have time to think about it now though, because in half an hour he was due to be in the conference room, and he knew what was waiting for him there. He probably hadn't seen any of his friends or teammates because they were giving him a bit of space. Most likely they didn't know how to deal with this situation either, but they would still have questions. Lot's and lot's of questions.

For the next twenty-seven minutes he drank his coffee in utter silence and then, with no particular game plan in mind and leaving his muffins untouched, he headed to the conference room.

oooOOOooo

Carson sat quietly, his hands gripping his pen tight enough to snap it, had it been made of anything but an alloy. He was beside himself with tension and had no idea how to deal with it. Rodney had awoken during their midnight meeting and had walked out of his sickbay without so much as a sound, and Carson had come back to find the empty bed with bloody bandages lying in the rubbish bin near by. He had damn well near panicked and all but stormed out of the infirmary, calling Sheppard frantically over the radio. _He's left us_ had been his thoughts at the time, which he could now admit were a bit off the wall. He'd wanted to find Rodney immediately, and hadn't been willing to wait, at least not until John had talked some sense into him and stopped him from barging into Rodney's quarters to see if he was there.

No, he'd stood outside the scientists damned doors, pacing, until the Colonel had shown up with a life signs detector and confirmed that Rodney was indeed in his quarters. Carson had still wanted to barge in there, and had been about to do just that when a strong hand had gripped his arm, stopping him.

"What do ye think yer doin'? I have to check on him, make sure he's all right in there!" he'd exclaimed and John, looking more exhausted than any man should, had carefully shaken his head.

"Carson, he probably left the infirmary to be alone, to regroup. If we start barging into his sanctuary where's he going to go then? At least we know where he is now, and that he's safe."

"I don't know John, we should talk to him, just to make sure," Sheppard frowned and looked at the ancient scanner in his hands.

"It looks like he's in his bathroom right now, probably taking a shower. I'm not sure it's the best time," he looked as though it wouldn't take a great deal of convincing to change his mind. Carson opened his mouth to do just that, when the guilt washed over him. If he were in Rodney's position right now would he want company? Probably not. He must be in pain from his wounds, and exhausted from the trauma to his body and mind. So in the end they had decided to leave him alone for the remainder of the morning.

Carson had broken three of his favourite pens in the meantime, before switching to the steel one currently in his grasp.

Footsteps drew his attention to the door and he watched Zelenka bustle through and take a seat. The next footsteps he heard he didn't bother looking over, figuring Rodney would show up at the last possible minute to avoid small talk. The chair at far end of the table scraped and he glanced over to nod a greeting only to have the words freeze on his lips as he saw Rodney, who was busily setting up his laptop.

"Rodney," he gushed out, just stopping himself from jumping to his feet.

"Carson." Came the reply along with a dip of his head nodding in Carson's general direction, avoiding eye contact.

"How are ye feeling this morning, lad?" He pushed to the edge of his seat, ready to leap into action if his friend so much as hinted at feeling unwell.

"Just fine, thank you," he replied, still not looking up.

"Good. Ye had me right worried when you pulled that disappearing act of yours," Carson let some of his anger bleed into his voice, and was somewhat satisfied when the stubborn man finally looked over at him properly. Oye, he looked bloody terrible. He probably didn't sleep a wink after he left and the look of uncertainty so blatant on his face had Carson almost aching with the need to comfort the man.

"Oh, umm, sorry? I…just needed to get out for a bit…" the normally acerbic Canadian trailed off as Sheppard and Weir entered the room. Sheppard took one look at Rodney, marched over to him and plunked down in the seat right next to his. This seemed to make their friend even more uncomfortable.

"Morning, Rodney," Sheppard drawled as he began setting up his notes on the table.

"Good morning, Colonel." He eyed him warily a moment before turning his attention to Weir and nodding at her. She smiled reassuringly at him, but the worry in her eyes kind of ruined the affect.

"Well, shall we begin then?" She looked around the table, her eyes meeting Carson's briefly, and then the meeting was underway. They began with a discussion of the accident yesterday, which made sense Carson supposed, but it was a mite difficult to focus when there was a huge purple elephant in the room practically performing the River Dance. He kept looking over at Rodney, noting that his pale complexion wasn't getting any better and wondering if he'd been able to eat anything yet. The man was speaking as though everything were normal, his voice strong and carrying his usual sarcasm, and it was a bit shocking to see him respond so expectedly.

How many briefings had they had after traumatic incidents where Rodney was able to convince everyone else he was perfectly fine? Because if he could hide all his real emotions, and there was no way he was feeling perfectly fine right now, under his sharp words then they may have rarely known how he truly felt.

Sheppard kept looking at him too, a frown pulling down his lips for moments at a time before he realized his own mask had slipped. He didn't look like he'd gotten much sleep either. Hell, Carson suspected nobody in this room had slept well, and Zelenka's hair was wilder than usual. Rodney's arm kept slipping from the table to hover protectively at his side and Carson glared at the man, because if he had done something more to damage himself while out of his care he was going to hear about it!

The briefing arrived at the point where Rodney was now looking pointedly at his computer, as though it were the most fascinating thing in the room as he described what he did while under the water. How it had taken no time at all the fix the problem once he had arrived at its destination.

"A monkey could have solved it," he declared with an abstract wave of the hand and Sheppard snorted.

"Yeah, a sea monkey apparently." Rodney stiffened instantly in his seat and looked sharply at the Colonel as everyone simultaneously leaned forward in their seats.

"Yes, well, it seemed a good idea at the time," McKay offered rather weakly and Sheppard raised an eyebrow.

"Come on, Rodney," he tried to speak soothingly to his friend, which didn't really work because his soothing voice usually ended up sounding more annoyed than anything else. "You know you're going to have to explain this to us, because I can guarantee none of us ever saw this coming."

"Which, I might add, is a rather large problem as far as I'm concerned," Carson leaned forward from across the table, his worry apparent along with his anger. And John could understand that, he really could, but there was a reason behind Rodney's previous silence. There was a reason behind his fear, even now as he was among friends.

"Well, I'm sorry to have inconvenienced you," McKay snapped back, his eyes flashing emotions as his face remained stony. "Let me assure you that had the situation not been dire I wouldn't have graced you with this 'problem' in the first place."

"And that is exactly what is wrong here, Rodney," Carson's fists clenched in frustration on the tables surface. "You could have been hurt, countless times, where I might not have been able to help you because I had no idea about such a fundamental aspect of your anatomy!"

"Rodney, we are not trying to attack you here," Elizabeth cut in smoothly before Carson could get too carried away. John found himself nodding along with her, though he agreed one hundred percent with Beckett as well. The important thing now was understanding what it meant, not getting upset over what it 'could' have meant. "But we need to know what is going on. Truthfully," she implored meeting the head scientist's eyes for a moment before the man's gaze ducked away.

"What is there to tell, Elizabeth? I have gills. I breathe underwater. I'm not sure what else you need to know…"

"How long have you had them?" Sheppard asked. If they wanted answers, they were going to have to ask direct questions in this case. Rodney looked at him a second before glancing to his computer, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

"I think that's doctor patient-"

"Rodney," Sheppard growled a warning and the man huffed indignantly.

"Fine. I've had them since I was a child. Happy?"

"Far from it. Why didn't you tell us? Better yet, how come we never knew? You had to have had a full physical before signing onto the Stargate program, right? Hell, shouldn't there be reports as far back as your birth on this? Assuming you've been like this since birth."

"Yes, there should be." Rodney sighed and rubbed a hand at his forehead a moment before leaning forward with intent. "Okay, I'm going to explain this to you, once, but I need to know that it's not going to go beyond this room." He looked around the table.

"I'm sorry to say but the rumours are already spreading," Elizabeth informed him, and to that he rolled his eyes.

"Well yes, I suspect they are. It's not every day the smartest man in the city takes a twenty minute swim with one breath of air." He scoffed, trying to mask his obvious unease. He licked his lips. "But rumours can be taken with a grain of salt, and people here will believe and not believe just about anything you want them too."

"I suppose you're a prime example in that regards," Sheppard noted, not trying to sound mean or anything, but apparently unable to keep his immediate thoughts to his self.

"Obviously." McKay wouldn't look at them again, his moods shifting like a kaleidoscope. He lifted his chin defiantly. "Still, if it's all the same to you, I'd rather this bit of information not leave this room."

"I can't make any promises, Rodney," Elizabeth said, sounding so heart broken, "but we will do everything within our power to hold your confidence."

"Well, that's more than others have promised me before…well. Good, that's fine then." He looked at Carson. "I've had them since I was born, obviously, but since I was breathing and had all ten fingers and toes there was no reason for the doctors to do any serious physical scans. I was perfectly healthy, not a mark on me so there was no way of knowing. Not until I was around five years old and they seemed to mature enough to become usable, I guess." He shrugged, looking awkward but determined.

"Five years old? Why then? Why not immediately?" Carson asked, sounding intrigued. Rodney smirked, but it was different from his usual smirk, colder.

"I don't know. I never really thought to ask back then. I heard them saying something about the stimulus of my birth triggering which type of breathing to use. Apparently the human body wasn't meant for two types of lungs and was initially only capable of using one set until I grew stronger. Go figure, huh?"

"So if you had had a water birth…"

"Then I probably wouldn't even be here right now. Things like this tend to scare and intrigue people." His tone of voice suggested that that line of questioning was not going to be picked up in his presence. He'd had enough and John had to look away a moment as he thought about how Rodney's life could have turned out. An infant that could breathe underwater…they probably would have locked him up in a lab or something. He looked at the figurative distance Rodney was trying to maintain from them now and wondered if that had happened anyway. His chest felt tighter than usual as he looked at his friend.

"That still doesn't explain how you've gone through the SGC medicals and scans without any indication of this." Carson was frowning, looking like he already suspected the answer and didn't like it one bit.

"Please. I went to the doctors so many damn times over the stupidest things that I actually gave myself a complex trying to train them to not look too carefully at me," Rodney was looking at the table top again and he slid his chair away from the table, and them, a few inches without seeming to notice the action. John did not like that, and neither did the others by the quickly hidden looks on their faces. "And as such a highly valued and respected member of the expedition by the time it came to needing full body scans for this trip," he waved his hand around to indicate Atlantis as though this were a vacation, "I had already managed to program the equipment to just completely ignore the gills. It was easy once I had access to the tools and by that time we were relying on technology much more sophisticated then earths, which subsequently makes it easier to interfere with. I did the same thing to the Atlantis scanners first chance I got," he looked slightly apologetic at Carson.

"But that's a lot of scanners, Rodney," Carson sat back in his seat, looking a bit sick.

"If you haven't figured it out yet I am a very thorough person, not to mention good at my job."

"Yer damned lucky nothing has damaged that area of yer anatomy, because if it had…"

"Yes yes, I am, and was, well aware of the risks. No offense, but I deemed them necessary."

"Even after all this time?" Elizabeth asked softly and Rodney shifted uncomfortably.

"Yes well, like I said: it's nothing personal."

"How is that not personal?" Sheppard asked, glaring at the man. "You're basically saying that you don't trust us enough to even let us know about a fundamental part of your anatomy. You choose possible death through who knows what kind of complications over trusting us."

"When you put it like that it doesn't sound like a good plan," Rodney looked at him, meeting his eyes briefly before shifting away. "But you know now. I'll fix all the scanners, if you haven't had Zelenka do it already," he waved at the scientist in reference before he began shutting down his computer, keeping his hands busy as they all stared at him.

"Yer darn right you will. And then yer gonna sit down and let me take a proper scan of ye so I can learn how to treat you properly."

"Yes, right." It didn't look at all okay with the astrophysicist as he agreed to the tests, but he sighed as though he'd expected nothing less. "In the meantime we can just inform people that it was a freaky off world encounter with some device and the effects were irreversible. Tell them I chose not to publicly disclose it because it was none of their business."

"Like it was none of ours?" Sheppard asked and immediately cursed his automatic response. Rodney's entire body became even stiffer but his demeanor didn't change as he apparently decided to take the lofty route; pretend it was all nothing to be concerned or shocked with.

"Yes, precisely. Now, if you'll excuse me there is a ton of work I need to be doing, least of all is checking the previously flooded area of the city for damages," he was gone as soon as he finished his sentence, not waiting for permission. Sheppard turned to find Weir and Carson glaring at him. Zelenka just looked lost in his own little world. He rubbed at his eyes, feeling tired beyond belief.

"I know, I know. I'll talk to him, just not when there's a crowd," he gestured around them all which seemed to mollify Weir.

"I can't imagine what he must have gone through to make him so afraid," Weir sighed, shaking her head in dismay.

"It's probably best not to speculate, dear," Carson comforted. "He's still the man we have known in Atlantis for the last two years, and even before this place. Once he see's that we're not going to hurt him," he kind of choked on those words "then we can put this all behind us."

"Just pretend it never happened? That's he's not a fish man?" Sheppard asked harshly, defensively and Carson looked so stricken that he immediately realized he had misinterpreted the man.

"No, of course not! Just that we can all go back to acting like normal bloody human beings without having the fact that he has bloody gills be the first thing that pops into our heads every time we see him!"

"You're right. Sorry Carson, I didn't mean it that way. I just never thought Rodney would hide something this monumental from us."

"We are all emotional right now," Radek began folding his own equipment up. "Rodney is fine and a disaster has been diverted. I for one am happy. I must go to work and spend some time coming up with appropriate fish comments now." And he left the room on Sheppard's snort.

"We stick to our initial plan and remain supportive," Weir announced, as if there had ever been another option. "In the mean time we have a city to run."

TBC.

Thanks for all the wonderful reviews! You have me grinning and biting my nails in anticipation of your responses : )


	4. Defence Mechanism

**Chapter 4: Defence Mechanism**

People tended to lower their voices or stop speaking for moments at a time when they first saw him entering a room. No problem, he'd expected it. He'd also expected to overhear hushed comments of: "Is it true?" "Is he part fish now?" "How did we not know?" Hell, he'd even expected the few people who had come up and boldly questioned him about it. Then he'd thought it would be brushed aside like most other things in Atlantis. Hell, Sheppard's bug incident got _two_ days of intrigued stares and then it was back to normal.

Rodney had been out of the infirmary for two days now, and he was beginning to get the idea that this wasn't going to disappear as quickly as he'd hoped. He tore the picture of a mermaid with his face on it off his door and marched into his quarters. Cute. He hadn't seen that one yet. He _had_ received anonymous emails playing "Under the Sea" and a burned dvd of "Splash." Learning who the culprits were would be easy enough and he could send them a very clear message that the mocking was not appreciated, but it just wasn't worth the effort.

Besides, Zelenka hadn't looked too impressed by the jokes. Whether he was unhappy on Rodney's behalf, or that someone else had beaten him to the punch lines, Rodney figured the Czech was probably going to do something about it himself.

He hoped.

"McKay?" He jumped and looked around quickly, expecting to see Sheppard in his room, only to find it empty. Right, his radio, thank god.

"McKay here," he responded, distracted as he tried to remember where his garbage can was. Did he even have one? Oh wait, there was one in the bathroom.

"You planning on joining us?" He froze on the spot, and swallowed thickly. He hadn't seen anyone from his team since his meeting with Sheppard and Weir two days before. He wouldn't say he was actively avoiding them so much as making himself too busy to be around them. He'd completely forgotten about movie night.

"Probably not," he quickly informed him. "Something came up and I'm going to be stuck in the labs for a while longer. You should just go ahead and start without me, I'll try and join you later." He breathed a sigh of relief at his quick save even as the guilt crept up. He ruthlessly shoved it back down.

"McKay, you told Teyla you'd be here."

"That was four days ago, plans change and working to save lives tends to be a bit higher on the list of priorities than socializing."

"You're not working right now, Rodney," Sheppard informed him, not sounding as smug as Rodney would expect him to with a comment like that.

"Oh really? I don't see how you could possibly know that as you're not here."

"Ronon's outside your door." Rodney looked towards the door in question even though he couldn't see through it. He didn't really know what to say to that, so he didn't say anything. "Rodney, come hang out with us." He felt caught between embarrassment, longing, and nausea at the situation. The nausea might win. "Look," John continued, sounding frustrated now, "We're just gonna watch a movie. _Serenity_. You haven't seen that one yet."

It wouldn't be too long before they would be deployed on a mission and Rodney wouldn't be able to continue avoiding them once that happened. He didn't really want to avoid them forever as it was, he just wanted to avoid the questions for as long as possible. Wasn't it enough that they knew he had gills? Couldn't they all just leave it at that and continue on with their lives? What was wrong with good old repression and ignorance? Let bygones be bygones. Rodney blamed Heightmeyer, Elizabeth and Carson and their flimsy notions that talking about things helped. It didn't, and Rodney wanted to forget it all and he couldn't do that if people had questions!

"Fine. I'm coming," he relented, feeling another pressure headache building in his forehead. When he reached up to pinch his brow his shirt scraped at the still healing filaments and he dropped his arm. This was not going to be a good night.

"It's your turn to bring the popcorn," Sheppard informed him, sounding about five times smugger then he should, which Rodney equated to him being satisfied. He stomped to his cupboard and grabbed two bags of popcorn before heading to the door. He walked out without slowing down or stopping.

"We're stopping at the mess hall," he informed Ronon as the man silently stepped up beside him. Neither of them spoke until they were waiting for the bags to finish popping and Rodney could no longer handle the Satedan's incessant staring. The mans eyes were going to bore a hole through his back!

"What? Stop staring at me! I have enough complex's as it is." He snapped, which was apparently all the invitation Ronon needed to begin talking.

"You can breathe under water." The man stated, his arms crossed over his chest and his hips leaning casually against the metal counter. Rodney's head began to ache a little more.

"Wow, you're an observant one."

"Could you always do this?"

"For a long time," Rodney turned to the microwave and willed it to pop faster.

"You have a fin?"

"A what! Are you serious?" Rodney looked up at the man with wide eyes and saw that he was. He blinked incredulously. "Of course I don't have fins! I'm not a damn fish!" Ronon shrugged at him.

"You have gills. It didn't seem that odd of a thought."

"Well…it is odd, and I don't have one. Are we done here yet? Why is this taking so long?"

"Sheppard said most people with gills have fins."

"Oh, and exactly how many people with gills has Sheppard met? One. I'm sure he's a real expert on the subject."

"How many have you met?" Rodney pulled the hot bags from the microwaves, hastily opening them and dumping them into the large bowl he'd set out.

"None," he admitted.

"Can you make other people breath underwater?"

"Oh, for the love of all that is science! No, I can't do that! Go to the marine biologists and ask them how gills work and then do me a favour and explain it to Sheppard to save me from listening to these stupid questions a second time." He huffed and left the kitchen with Ronon already stuffing a handful of popcorn into his mouth.

"Sheppard says this is a good movie. Cult classic." Ronon raised his eyebrows in question at McKay.

"Apparently," Rodney gratefully grabbed onto the change in topic with both hands. "I never had the chance to see the show but I know it developed quite the following."

"You should take more time off."

"You should stop eating the popcorn before it's all gone."

"You should have made more."

"You should grow a brain." Ronon snorted at the weak comeback and made to grab another handful from the bowl. Rodney twisted out of the way and stepped quickly into the lounge they always watched movies in, shoving the bowl into John's arms by way of greeting. "Here, before the bottomless pit eats it all." He sat down beside Sheppard and crossed his arms.

"It is good to see you, Rodney," Teyla greeted from Sheppard's other side and Rodney shifted, suddenly feeling self-conscious. Teyla was the only one who hadn't been there at 'the great revealing.'

"Yes, yes, same to you. You had a good visit with your people, I take it?"

"Yes, it was very peaceful." Rodney nodded in response and leaned back in his seat.

"So, movie?" Sheppard leaned forward and hit play without further comment and Rodney gratefully sank into his seat, feeling Sheppard's body heat all along his left side. The next thing he knew the lights had been dimmed, he was lying along the entire couch, and the only person left in the room with him was John, splayed on the smaller couch beside Rodney's, snoring lightly. Where was a recorder when you needed it?

Rodney slowly sat up. The movement must have been enough to wake Sheppard as he suddenly jerked to a fully sitting position, looking around quickly.

"I wasn't asleep," he immediately insisted into the silence, and Rodney snorted. Sheppard focused on him. "Feel better?" He asked, voice hushed in the dim light. Rodney thought about the answer before nodding; his headache was gone at least.

"Yeah. Guess I needed some sleep."

"You looked a little rough."

"Yes well, work tends to run me down a bit when I'm not paying attention."

"Or when you're using it as an excuse to avoid people."

"Well, it's effective to a point," he shrugged before waiting for the questions to start. Sheppard startled him by standing and stretching, making a face as something in his back twinged.

"Well, I've got an early start. I'll see you later for breakfast." The look he gave Rodney as he left promised that while there was still a lot that they were going to talk about, he was either willing to let it go for now, or just too damn tired to interrogate Rodney at the moment. Rodney watched him leave and stood himself, ignoring the burn as his shirt rubbed the still tender flesh around his gills. He'd refused to let Carson look at them again until they healed a little more, but he was going to have to go in eventually for a check up. He was not looking forward to that.

There was a picture of a shark with Rodney's face professionally superimposed over the head taped to his door. He tore it down with barely a glance and just threw it on the floor in his quarters on his way to bed.

He hated this.

oooOOOooo

Rodney flinched in his seat as he heard yet another box being placed none too gently on the floor near Kusinagi's work area. The only reason he didn't snap at the people delivering them was the quiet and angry words the woman herself sent their way and the next few boxes being offloaded were handled with much more care. He liked to think he had taught her well over the years.

He shared a satisfied look with Radek, who just rolled his eyes at his pleasure, and went back to his calculations. In a few hours he would be ready to head to the corridor that had been flooded the few days before and begin conducting repairs properly. Just the thought of how long it was going to take him to do this…the days leading up to his next mission were going to remain full that was for sure.

"Radek," he suddenly called out and looked over at his friend. "I need those power ratios and the schematics you promised me an hour ago."

"Yes, and I am finishing them now, along with the thousand other things you asked of me five minutes ago. You may call me a god, but I am but a man. You will have it when I am ready and not a moment before."

"How you expect me to get any work done around here when you people can't even get me the most basic of information…" he muttered loudly but went back to his work. At least Radek was speaking with him normally again. He'd been a bit angry with Rodney for messing with all those scanners and then making him fix them all. It was a few minutes later when he finally received the information he wanted. He looked between the two monitors set up before him and frowned.

"What?" Zelenka asked.

"What what?" he heard responded automatically, no really hearing the question.

"You have that look."

"Look?" He was distracted as he made the connection he had been searching for all morning.

"The look that says you know something," Zelenka informed him. He quickly began inputting some new data, not really hearing what the Czech had said. It was a few moments before he stopped and looked over at his friend.

"What? Sorry, my mind was elsewhere," he sent his findings over to Radek, and then moved to stand next to the man he had been ignoring. He pretended not to see the irritated look that was thrown his way as he approached, instead he began silently pointing out what he had found. It took Radek two seconds to see what Rodney had seen in the readings, which thankfully erased the look of irritation.

"Oh, I see. So if we are able to create program to reroute the sub-directives towards the main control database…"

"Then we can completely open up those systems to take a look at the connections without having to shut down and then reboot any of the primary systems."

"And then we can find what is causing the problem," Radek nodded. "It should take half a day, maybe more to write the program…"

"Get Koslowski to help, he can take care of the base and you can focus on the details."

"Yes, is good idea. Perhaps if we-" Rodney didn't hear the rest of what Radek had intended to say as a body suddenly smashed hard into his, driving him sideways into the table. He had a split seconds thought of '_what the fu-'_ before a sudden sharp, red hot pain demanded his full and undivided attention. He pushed away from the table and instantly pressed a hand to his side, which only made the pain flare worse and he cursed himself for the action as he took a moment to catch his breath. When he looked around the room it was dead silent and everyone was staring at him with a look akin to horror. It was not horror for whether or not he was hurt, but more for what he would do to the culprit.

He looked over to find Dr. Plaid (whom he called such not because of his name but because he _always_ wore plaid shirts instead of the uniform blue) gawking at him through a pair of thick glasses, hunched over slightly and trying to discreetly right the data screen in his hand. Rodney looked behind the man to see the boxes that had been placed earlier kicked out of alignment and put all the information together.

They were waiting for the yelling to begin.

"Watch where you're going next time, you could damage valuable equipment," he snapped with less heat than usual and then turned back to Radek and his work. It was a few minutes before the noise level was back to normal and he sighed in relief.

"Are you okay?" Radek asked him quietly and Rodney glared at the concern.

"Have you ever been punched in the throat before?" Rodney was satisfied that Radek looked a bit horrified at the thought.

"No."

"Well this was nothing like that. It's just a little bump. I'm fine." He looked back towards the work and Radek took the hint and followed suit. At least he did for a few minutes before he sighed and adjusted his glasses.

"You are bleeding, Rodney," he said quietly and Rodney startled, looking down to where Radek indicated. Sure enough there were a few blotches of red beginning to smear his blue shirt. Red and blue did not purple make he thought as he pulled at the material self-consciously. He resisted the urge to lift the end and take a look at why he was bleeding for fear of everyone else also looking. "Perhaps you should visit Carson, have him examine for life threatening injuries." The Czech suggested quietly, no doubt trying to keep Rodney from panicking with his gentle tone. Damn it, Rodney had almost been completely healed. He glared at his shirt, suddenly not at all comfortable being in a room where everybody was probably aware that he had gills and Radek was speaking to him like he might spook for the suggestion of seeking medical aid.

"Right. Good idea. I'll probably be gone for the rest of the day. Take care of the kids and get what you can of that program done. I'll look at it when I get the chance." He left without making eye contact with his friend, but held his head high. Nobody looked at him as he walked out, too absorbed in their own work.

He decided to actually go to the infirmary, despite knowing that it was just a little scrape. Radek would no doubt tell Carson about the blood, which would have Carson calling in the cavalry to drag Rodney to his clutches as soon as possible. Rodney had no urge to be dragged anywhere like a child and he had to see Carson sometime anyway. It might as well be on his own terms.

It wasn't that he didn't trust Carson, mostly, because medicine was still voodoo as far as he was concerned. It was more that he hadn't been to a doctor about his 'situation' since he had been young. Very, very young. He had managed to successfully hide the truth from everybody for over twenty-five years, and those that did know hadn't been able to touch him for just as long. The thought of having a doctor examine him, even Carson, had the hair on his neck rising and his muscles tensing without thought. He was going to have a tension headache tonight for sure.

He ignored the look one of the soldiers gave him as he walked by, seeing the distrust in her gaze and the narrowing eyes. This wasn't unusual, because even among an expedition as open minded as Atlantis there were always a few who's true colours showed when something they didn't understand or agree with occurred. Rodney hadn't really received any overt hostility, but he had noticed several _looks_. This soldier was one of the most frequent flyers among them, though he could care less to learn the woman's name. She had looked at Ronon the same way for his first few weeks in Atlantis. He glared at her for good measure and she just blinked as she walked past, completely unfazed.

When he finally approached the infirmary doors he actually paused for a second out side, hesitating to make the final few steps, before he angrily pushed himself forward. Despite what people thought, he wasn't a coward when things needed to be done. And this needed to be done.

"Carson!" He called loudly as he stepped through the doors, ignoring the nurses that didn't even flinch at his sudden and loud appearance. They had been battle hardened long ago. He walked right past them to the Scotsman's office and stopped in front of Carson, who was looking up at him from his desk in confusion. At least until his sharp gaze zeroed in on the small bloodstains on his shirt. He probably smelt it first, the bloodhound.

"What's happened to ye now?" He said in alarm as he rounded the desk and made to pull up Rodney's shirt.

"Do you mind? There are people around!" Rodney hastily stepped back out of Carson's reach and right into one of said people, who grunted at the impact but held steady.

"What's up, Rodney," Sheppard's familiar voice drawled behind him and he twisted around to find the man looking him over. His trained gaze also stopped at the bloodstains. Rodney backed away from them another step in reaction, not expecting to have to deal with two people.

"What are you doing here?" He snapped and Sheppard held up a handful of bandages and field dressings.

"Do you think our med. kits refill themselves?" His eyes narrowed. "What happened?"

"Nothing," Rodney stammered out, suddenly wishing he'd just gone and changed his shirt instead of coming here. "It was just my scientists displaying their usual lack of balance. I'm fine though, nothing to worry about so I'm just gonna go now."

"Ye certainly are not," Carson firmly grasped his arm and began leading him to the back of the infirmary and into one of the private rooms. Sheppard followed without invite or hesitation and closed the door behind them as though he belonged there. "Now off with yer shirt, Rodney, and tell me what happened." Rodney hesitated at the command, which he could see bothered Carson because the man was not used to him trying to delay medical treatment.

"There is such a thing as doctor patient confidentiality you know, not to mention privacy," he snapped at Sheppard, who just crossed his arms over his chest.

"You're just removing your shirt McKay, it's nothing I haven't seen before," he said while staring right into Rodney's eyes, daring him to disagree. They both knew Rodney would be lying if he did. "And I need to know more about this whole gill thing so I can take precautions for it in the field. So let the kind doctor help you and take off your shirt before you bleed out on the floor." Rodney instantly looked down at his shirt.

"I'm not bleeding that much, it's just a scrape." But he was relieved to see the stains hadn't really grown any larger. He looked between the two men again, Carson looking ready to cut the material off and Sheppard was clearly unwilling to listen to Rodney about anything, as usual. Fear overcame his indignation, which turned into anger because Rodney was not going to let this fear control him. He quickly reached down and pulled off the shirt with a huff, only flinching slightly when Carson's warm gloved hands began gently prodding around the area.

"See, that wasn't so bad," Sheppard mocked him and Rodney glared.

"Oh shut up, and also, ow! Watch what you're doing there!" He snapped at the slight burning the inspection triggered. Carson looked up at Rodney with a touch of horror in his eyes.

"I'm sorry Rodney, I didn't realize you were that sensitive here," he gentled his ministrations drastically as he began cleaning the small scrape and Rodney instantly felt guilty.

"No, it's fine. It doesn't hurt that much, I'm just…being difficult," he admitted and looked away from Carson's hands on his body. He'd been unconscious last time so he hadn't really thought about people touching him there. Now it just unsettled him and he wanted to run from the room. "I was pushed into a table," he found himself saying instead. "It just scraped some of the almost healed skin but it should be fine by tomorrow."

"They look a hell of a lot better than the other day," Sheppard commented, watching over Carson's shoulder. "Do they always heal this fast? Because I would have thought that level of damage would take more than a week to look this good."

"Rodney's cells seem to have increased regeneration capabilities in this area. The swabs I took when he was in here last certainly suggested it, but this is more impressive than I had originally thought," Carson mused in response.

"Hello, the specimen is in the room you know," Rodney cut in, not liking being talked about so blatantly. Sheppard frowned and Carson looked unsettled as he apologized and applied a touch of salve to the small wound.

"Is this why you never looked like you had gills before? The tissue regenerated over your entire side?" Sheppard asked as Rodney hastily slipped his shirt back on. He looked at both men, knowing that this question and answer session had been coming for a while and he sat down in the chair to his right. The two men took the hint and sat down as well, staring at him with intensity. He rubbed a hand over his eyes.

"If I don't use them for a certain length of time then they grow over, yes. I always believed it was some form of defence mechanism, that if I wasn't going to use them then they could be hidden. Obviously it worked."

"How long does it take for them to grow over then?" Carson asked, frowning to himself.

"In about two months you won't be seeing them anymore. It generally took a few weeks when I was younger but the last time I used them I was in my early twenties and it took longer to grow over that time. I can only assume that as I get older the healing time slows."

"You're going to let them grow over? What if you need them again?" Sheppard asked and Rodney looked at him oddly.

"When could these possibly come in useful around here, hm? They could be a liability, and the last thing I want is for more people knowing about them."

"I don't get it, don't you want to use them?"

"It's not a matter of want Colonel, it's a matter of need. And I don't need to use them, therefore they can just go away." He didn't meet either of their eyes as he said this and therefore missed the look the two men shared as he waved his hand for the next question. Carson waited until Rodney looked at him before asking.

"Are there any files on this that I could look at?"

"No, I destroyed them."

"So there were studies done then," Carson hedged, the gentle understanding in his tone aggravated Rodney and he glared at the man.

"Of course there were studies done. I would have thought you'd figure that out now with my reluctance to share this information." He tried to draw on his anger so that he wouldn't remember the fear. "Needless to say there is nothing left of the research to look at, so you're going to have to take new scans for your files. The quicker we do this the sooner I can get back to work," he made to stand but Carson's strong grip suddenly appearing on his knee kept him in place and he folded his arms across his chest in response.

"Does yer sister have them, Rodney?" He snorted in response to that.

"No. Thank god, because she's always been about living the normal, family life. This wouldn't have worked well into her plans." And he was truly glad for it, though sometimes it was more difficult to bury the bitterness than others. At Carson's raised eyebrow he decided to just lay out the whole story, because it was obvious that his friend needed to know and neither man had any real idea about Rodney's childhood.

"Okay, listen: My mother was a geneticist and biological engineer, a brilliant woman on all accounts and involved in all sorts of cutting edge experimentation from the moment she graduated." Rodney didn't sound very impressed with her qualifications, even if she was his mother. "Nobody ever took the time to actually talk to me about any of this, but from what I understand one of the projects she was working on needed test subjects in the form of pregnant women. I suppose my development just happened to coincide with her project because she volunteered to inject my embryo with some kind of genetic altering drug, which I don't know anything about," he quickly added, forestalling Carson's question. "There were several women injected with this experiment, but none of their children survived, either being miscarried or dying shortly after birth. Lucky me, I suppose." He grimaced.

"Regardless to say she left the project before I was born and, after an apparently difficult birth, I went home with everyone under the notion that I was completely fine. Apparently my mother refused to let the organization examine me and my father had no idea anything was wrong in the first place so life…went on." Here he paused, not sure exactly how much information they needed, or how much he cared to tell them.

"After Jeannie was born my mother became ill. Very ill. My birth having somehow damaged her enough that having another child nearly proved fatal. She never spoke to me about any of this, personally I think she didn't want to deal with the fallout…" he trailed off quietly, remembering the weeks of examinations and experiments after she had taken him to... and his father's anger when he finally found out what had happened, before snapping back to the present. "And that's all I know about why I am…this way." Carson looked sick, John looked blank and Rodney couldn't stop his hands from shaking as he finished telling the story for the first time. He waited in silence while they thought about what he had told them.

"Does Jeannie even know about this?"

"Of course not! I may have only been a child, but I was still a genius. Telling her would have put her in danger. It may have even put me in danger if she couldn't keep a secret, and let me tell you Jeannie is a wonderful person in so many ways but when it comes to her keeping her mouth shut in regards to me, well, she was even worse as a child then she is now. So I didn't. I didn't tell anyone. My dad knew, my mother must have told him what she did at some point, and I wasn't going to tell anyone else if I could help it. They never asked me about it, regardless." Was he saying too much? He was probably saying too much and he should really stop talking now. "Can we get to those scans now? I wasn't lying when I said I had things to do." And Carson thankfully agreed.

oooOOOooo

Rodney had left a while ago, all insults and bluster as he went to do 'important work.' John had disappeared before the tests had started but now he and Elizabeth were closed away in Carson's office, waiting for him to grace them with his presence. At the moment he was taking a minute to gather himself so he could remain professional, his thoughts dancing all over the place instead of remaining on the facts before him.

Rodney McKay had gills. Yes, he had been aware of this for days now, but it was still difficult to wrap his mind around that despite the undeniable proof. They looked about a hundred times better today than they had when Rodney had first been pulled from the water, the tissue regeneration healing him remarkable fast.

Earlier Carson had nearly panicked when his friend had marched into his office with blood on his shirt, his first thought being about how little he knew of Rodney's gills. It had been nothing, thank goodness, and he and John had finally managed to corner the man into telling them a little bit about them.

Genetic experimentation on an embryo. While Carson could certainly understand the possible necessity he had never, ever, actually considered performing such an act, especially for a non-lifesaving purpose. Changing a human being on a genetic level before they were even born…he shuddered at the thought. Thank goodness Rodney's mother had the decency to not put her second child through the same fate. Not that what she had done could ever be considered forgivable, especially if she treated Rodney as poorly as his offhanded comments made it seem.

He couldn't even imagine how Rodney had felt when he realized how truly different he was as a child. All Carson knew, in accordance to Rodney's own admittance, was that he must have been terrified, especially as he hid it from everyone. What kind of parents did he have if he couldn't trust them? And Rodney didn't trust them, that much was evident in how he spoke about them. Carson hated to think of it, but it certainly explained a lot.

When he finally entered his office both Elizabeth and John turned to look at him. Elizabeth looked interested, John looked closed off and weary. Carson knew the soldier hadn't told Elizabeth a thing yet, and Carson wondered how much of Rodney's story he could leave out when explaining things to Elizabeth. God love the woman, but if Rodney wanted her to know the nitty gritty then it was his choice to tell her.

"Sorry for keeping you waiting," he apologized as he set up his computer. "I just had a few more things to go over," he lied.

"No problem, Carson. Is everything okay with Rodney?" Elizabeth asked concerned.

"Aye, there's not a thing wrong with him at the moment. Not even he can complain," he tried for a smile and managed one. There was nothing wrong with his friend physically at least. Elizabeth smiled back, Sheppard looked as thought he didn't buy the levity for a second but said nothing. "Rodney's given me permission to explain to you both how his gills function, but beyond ourselves and a select few of my medical staff we are keeping a lock on these medical files." She frowned at that but nodded in understanding. He called up the diagram he wanted, the image of Rodney's body lighting up the screen.

"As you can see by this diagram he contains a normal set of lungs meant for atmospheric respiration, completely separate from his gills and functioning exactly like our own. However, when he is submerged he sucks the water in through his mouth and down his trachea and this is where it gets interesting." He enlarged the graphic slightly, showing a better view of the thoracic cavity.

"Where his trachea divides into the bronchial tubes he actually has a third passage, and when he breathes water the two bronchial are closed off with a valve, much like the epiglottis which keeps food and drink from entering the trachea."

"How does his body distinguish drinking water from water he's supposed to breathe?" Elizabeth asked, staring at the image.

"He says it's an instinct, a natural process that occurs without conscious thought, just like when we eat and drink," Carson explained and at her nod went back to the image. "This third passage also has an epiglottis of sorts to prevent water from entering his lungs. It forms its way behind his heart and other organs, changing from hard cartilage into a soft rubbery flesh. The tube divides, traveling between the eleventh and twelfth ribs. On a normal human this would seem impossible except that the flexible tube is supported through the ribs with a set of muscles that don't exist on a normal human being." He looked up to find both people staring intently at the screen. Elizabeth looked a bit green but Sheppard was examining it with a sharp eye, no doubt committing the diagram to memory.

"From here," Carson pointed unnecessarily, "the tube flows into a strong but thin membranous sac that is pressed between the external oblique muscles and the three gill slits. The water is pressed thin and forced out of the gills back into the surrounding water. Each gill is branched with feathery like tissue filled with tiny blood vessels near their surface. The oxygen in the water is absorbed into these blood vessels as it is pressed past them and the oxygen is then transported throughout his entire body. This allows him to breathe under water."

"Is that really enough surface area for proper oxygen absorption?" Sheppard asked, ignoring the raised eyebrow Elizabeth gave him.

"Actually, yes, his gills are large and fully capable of passing enough water through them to support his mass. Another benefit is that he can manually pull the water in through his mouth without the aid of continuous movement, unlike a shark which must swim continuously or it can't push the water through its gills. You should be aware that breathing water, because of the slightly slower absorption rate compared to air, requires approximately four percent more energy than respiration with his lungs."

"Will this be a problem for him?" Sheppard wanted to know, frowning and Carson shook his head.

"He probably won't even notice it, not unless he plans on swimming for an indeterminate amount of time. There are other changes to be aware of as well, such as his skin for example. When you spend too much time in the water your flesh turns wrinkly, after that your skin bloats. In order to sustain long periods under water skin must be able to absorb and expel the water enough to remain at a constant H2O state, which Rodney's body is capable of doing. Vision is also important, water being denser to look through then air his eyes are capable of focusing perfectly in both environments."

"Is there a way any of this could affect his health?"

"Not in any way other than the average breathing issues that most people have. So long as he doesn't go around breathing toxic or diseased water he should be fine. He even has the ability to breathe both salt or fresh water, though I have no idea which he prefers. I re-tested the water of this planet as soon as I realized what I was dealing with and it is perfectly clean. In fact it has a higher oxygen concentration than back on earth, so I suspect if anything it would just make him more energetic if he swims."

They both nodded in understanding but Elizabeth looked a bit discomforted as she continued to stare at the image. Then she shook herself and looked at her watch before standing.

"Thank you for this update, Carson. I know there are more things I need to discuss with both yourself and Rodney, but unfortunately I have a meeting with some of the geologists in ten minutes. If anything important comes up please keep me informed."

"Of course," he agreed, relieved when Sheppard stood as well, moving to follow her out of his office. When he reached the door, however, he paused and turned back to Carson.

"McKay said he's going to let his gills seal up again," he stated and Carson nodded, because Rodney had indeed made that fact abundantly clear. "Now," Sheppard's brow furrowed a bit, "I don't know much about all this, but it seems to me that if I had gills I would be predisposed to use them from time to time. Is it…normal for him to just lock them away like that, and more importantly can it hurt him to not use them?"

"That is a good question lad," Carson rubbed a hand over his eyes, feeling every bit his age right now. "And I have no answer for ye. Rodney's still being tight lipped about this and he hasn't mentioned anything beyond what he believes I need to know. I would _think_ that after being able to avoid using them for so long it doesn't bother him," he let the comment hang in the air and, after a moment, Sheppard stared at him a moment before he nodded and left. At Carson's soft request the door slid shut and he rested his head on his desk, the image of Rodney still displayed on his screen.

He had no idea how to help his friend from this point, he just hoped Rodney would start to see that they weren't going to make as big of a deal of this as he seemed to expect.

TBC.

Thanks for still reading.


	5. Living with Clipped Wings

**Chapter 5: Living with Clipped Wings**

"Why not?" Ronon asked, looking at him as though his answer had been randomly pulled from a Wraith's intestine, which was just unhygienic.

"Because I said so! It's a stupid idea, so just forget about it."

"Forget about what, Rodney?" Carson asked as he and Sheppard sat down with the two of them. Rodney shifted, suddenly uncomfortable with the number of people at this table whom he knew would side with Ronon. They'd all have their own reasoning of course, backed up with friendly intent, but Rodney still wasn't going to do it. He suddenly wasn't feeling all that hungry any more.

"He doesn't want to go swimming," Ronon announced, his voice somehow softer than it had been before but Rodney assumed it had something to do with keeping the half chewed food in his mouth.

"I'm busy," he snapped, glaring down at his own food to avoid looking at any of them.

"You need to get used to it again," Ronon gravely informed him. "You need to know all your strengths."

"Trust me when I say that this is not a strength! It's a genetic abnormality that I was surviving without just fine, thank you very much. Now can we drop this subject, please? I need to spend the few minutes I have away from the labs ensuring that I actually eat something." He pointedly stabbed at his salad, which was apparently refusing to remain speared on his fork and just added to his frustration.

"Then you need to be aware of your weaknesses." Ronon was relentless.

"It wouldn't hurt to take a couple laps Rodney, just to double check that everything is in working order," Sheppard said, playing the casual route as he pretended to be more interested in his stew. Rodney saw right through the act, completely aware that all three men were very intent on having this conversation.

"Everything is working just fine Colonel, unless the swim through Atlantis last week didn't prove that to you."

"Is it really that bad of an idea, Rodney? Maybe if ye began using yer gills you'd feel more comfortable with them." Carson looked hopefully at him and it just made Rodney's stomach roll. "And if I have the chance to see them in action then it may help me understand them better." He had to forcibly remind himself that their intentions were good, but couldn't they see how uncomfortable this was making him? Couldn't they just accept the hints he'd been bludgeoning them with all week and stop asking? Couldn't everybody just stop talking about it?

"Yes, it's that bad of an idea, Carson. I have no intention of using them and every intention of letting them grow over and disappear. Have you people even thought of me having them on off world missions? What happens when some tribes ceremonies demands that we remove our shirts and then they freak out and try to kill us all because of this," he gestured harshly at his side. "Clearly I'm the only one with any common sense any more," he huffed.

"There's ways around that Rodney and you know we'll keep anything like that from happening," Sheppard looked a bit pinched, no doubt thinking of all the extra work that would take.

"And you might need them on a mission," Ronon added helpfully.

"What? In case somebody decides to perform a ritualistic drowning?" Rodney had lists built in his mind of all the ways his gills could be potentially life saving on a mission, he wasn't an idiot, but if it ever became necessary then he'd just tear them open again. He'd already proved he'd do what was necessary, wasn't that enough?

"Yes McKay, in case the natives decide to tie you to a rock and toss you in the river. When you get out you can prove to them what a powerful witch you are and demand homage."

"Yes, that sounds like a wonderful incentive."

"Don't you want to?" Ronon asked, and everyone sort of just stopped what they were doing; hands paused in tearing a bun in half, a sandwich froze halfway to one's mouth and Rodney lost all his appetite as he glared at the Satedan, furious that he'd bring want into it. This wasn't about _want_ god damn it!

"No, I don't want to! What do you think I've been saying this last week? I haven't wanted to for fifteen years! Why would that suddenly change now?"

"Because it's okay here," Ronon said, staring at Rodney right in the eyes, all sincere and intense and scary. Rodney stood, trying to look annoyed as he felt the food in his stomach churn heavily.

"I have too much work to do to waste it on pointless conversations." He grabbed the chocolate muffin from his still half-full tray on principal and left. He needed to get to work so he could forget all about this conversation. He needed to do something that wasn't standing on his balcony looking at the wide open Atlantian sea and fighting the need to just dive in. He needed too-

"It's just wrong, that's why," the woman's voice hissed from up around the corner, sounding secretive and edgy and obviously not having heard Rodney's approach. He was just going to barrel around the corner and ignore whoever was there when he heard his name thrown into the mix, stopping him dead in his tracks.

"It's not McKay's fault that it happened and there is no reason this should even be an issue," a man answered back, sounding disinterested, like this was an old conversation he'd grown tired of years before.

"It's not natural."

"News flash, most of the stuff we deal with is not 'natural.' Sometimes the things they run into leave lasting results."

"I'm serious, Marlow. Something is wrong about this whole thing. Don't you think we would have heard something about this after the mission it happened on? It doesn't matter how classified their missions sometimes are, word always gets out. There was never even a hint at McKay being turned into a fish. Ever."

"Does it really matter? He's still McKay, and I sure as hell am not complaining about him saving my life last week."

"Of course it matters! If he's been like this since before coming here who knows what else the man is hiding. He is not human and if he's not human then he's a risk to everyone here."

"Stop." Marlow growled, his voice suddenly harsh in the empty corridors. "I don't want to hear another word. McKay is Chief scientist here and he has every right to be. The man has saved all of our asses on a collective level more than once at severe risk to his own. The only thing I've heard coming out of your mouth the last ten minutes is shit. If you have a problem with him then take it to Weir or, hell, request a fucking transfer. Whatever you do just stop talking, because I don't want to hear it. Now let's get back to work."

McKay heard them start rolling something down the corridor, away from him. Her words echoed in his ears. She didn't even consider him human. He was unnatural.

It wasn't something he hadn't heard before from various sources, it just reinforced exactly why he had hidden this aspect of himself for so long. He was used to being a freak, not quite fitting into any social groups growing up just because of his intelligence (and, yes, his personality. big shocker there.). He couldn't afford to let his biology make things more complicated on top of it.

His friends meant well, but they had no idea what they were talking about. Rodney did, he was the genius after all. And the one with the gills.

oooOOOooo

"Our time is up for today, John," Heightmeyer smiled kindly at him from her seat, her hands still folded neatly in her lap, empty. She had never carried a notebook with her in any of their sessions, never blatantly taken notes about him in front of him, and he supposed that was why he didn't fight harder to get out of these meetings with her. Now he found himself blinking slowly at her.

"Already?" He asked. He'd barely said two words to her this whole time, not knowing how to string them together apparently, and now his hour was up. It had gone by a lot faster than it usually did.

"I'm afraid so. Perhaps you'll have more to talk about next week." She unclasped her hands and made to stand up and he quickly jerked forward in his seat.

"Before I head out I have a question for you," he rushed out, relieved when she paused and then sat back down, looking at him patiently. He bit his cheek a moment, not sure how to ask this without betraying that whole doctor/patient confidentiality thing. "How's McKay doing?" She looked at him like she hadn't been expecting the topic of choice.

"I think you should probably ask him yourself," she hedged.

"Yeah, I know, I know. But, without betraying him or anything, can you tell me if he's okay? Has he been talking to you about anything? I'm asking as a friend here, not the Colonel."

"There's not a lot I can say to you, John. Rodney is going through a rough time right now and he's dealing as best as he knows how." She narrowed her eyes at him. "I had hoped he'd be speaking with you about it," and he threw up his arms in exasperation at that.

"It's not for lack of trying," he informed her, hoping for some insight that he may have missed. "I've got to tell you he's being more stubborn than usual about this. He has gills, and I know that he was put through some experimentation at some point and he hates talking about it, but ignoring it isn't going to solve anything."

"You think he's ignoring it?"

"Yes."

"Because he doesn't want to talk about it?"

"He has nothing to be afraid of here, and I don't understand why he can't just trust us with this. We would never, ever, do something that would hurt him and I know he knows this so why he's being so stubborn about it I have no idea."

"And you need to know these things because…"

"Because I can't protect him properly unless I know how and why he's going to react to things."

"I thought you were asking as a friend, not as the Colonel."

"I can't want to protect him as a friend?" He glared at her, daring her to imply that he's not responsible for his friends safety all the time. They've been over this topic before.

"And if you can't protect him then you're not doing your job." She continued, no doubt deciding to try and tackles his 'protection' issues at a later time.

"Yes! If he can't trust me…" he trailed off, remembering how Rodney had flat out refused to go swimming that morning, storming away from their table angrily. Hurt.

"Why do you think it's you he doesn't trust?"

"Not just me, any of us. He won't talk to anyone," he looked at her sharply and saw the barely concealed flinch. It told him everything he needed to know about how McKay's sessions with Heightmeyer were going. "I _know_ it's not personal, not really…"

"But you want to help him and don't know how," she supplied softly and he nodded. "John, you're aware of his past and already know how he reacts to things that threaten him." He remained silent, not continuing her line of thought and she picked it up smoothly. "I can't tell you how to help him because, as you said, he hasn't told any of us what's really bothering him. It's not your fault that he's dealing with things this way, it is simply how he deals. He may never be able to deal with it, but in the end it is his choice on how to react. It is not your responsibility and you haven't done anything to have placed him in this position." He blinked. When did this become about him?

"This isn't my fault?" He echoed. "When did this become about me?" He looked at her accusingly, thinking back over the conversation.

"It's not about you John, that's the point. But you have a part to play now, and _now_ is what matters." She stood gracefully from her seat, blonde curls tumbling artfully around her shoulders and he stood as well. He nodded, frowning as he turned and left.

He knew that what had happened to McKay, with his mother and his genetic changes, wasn't his fault. He wasn't an idiot. But he couldn't deny that he felt a bit better having it confirmed, even though he didn't get any of the answers about McKay that he wanted. He glanced at his watch and frowned when he realised that he still had ten minutes left of his session. She'd tricked him. He found he wasn't all that irritated.

Now all he had to do was get to the bottom of McKay's issues, and he had no idea where to go with that. When he thought about how nervous Rodney was whenever they spoke about it, how hard he had worked to keep them from ever knowing about the gills in the first place…he wanted to hit something. Hard. And then he wanted to rip it apart with his teeth and stomp on it. And then burn it.

It was a good thing he was going to train with Ronon in an hour.

But it wasn't just the experimentation that was bothering McKay. It sure as hell played a big part in how he was reacting now, but Sheppard knew there was more to it, there had to be. John suspected that having gills and not using them would be like living with clipped wings, and that was so far from being okay it was just…wrong. He was going to fix this.

oooOOOooo

Teyla stood back in the shadows and waited as an hour slipped slowly past and the stars began to shine brighter. The air was warm this evening and the area well sheltered from the heavy winds of the night. The water lain out before them was calm, disturbed only by the occasional ripple coming from the small night squid as their glowing forms darted around. This was one of several alcoves protected from the harshness of the sea by the architecture of Atlantis. She had been told that it was designed this way on purpose, as a place for water recreation or possibly training and scientific tests. Many people on Atlantis spent their afternoons off in these areas, and there had been talk of importing sand from the main land to one such spot. It was supposed to be an area for relaxation and fun.

Tonight the air was heavy, the silence speaking of tension and fear. It hurt her to see Rodney like this, standing so close to the edge of the water and refusing to take the final step. She waited silently for another half hour before deciding that it was time to let her presence be known. She stepped up beside him and gazed out at the water. It was dark here, but light from the half moon gave them enough light to easily see by.

Rodney startled when she joined him, and glared a moment before turning to stare purposefully out at the water.

"Is there something you needed?" His voice cracked on the first word from disuse.

"I have everything I need."

"How nice for you," he snapped, and crossed his arms fiercely over his chest, creating an extra barrier for himself. She did not respond, knowing he would turn his words into malice without wanting to, instead waiting in silence as he accepted her presence. She had not been alone with him since before the flooding, and she was well aware that he was avoiding her along with everyone else. After five minutes he looked over at her, his arms relaxing a bit.

"It's late, you should be asleep."

"That's not where I was needed," she replied, allowing for a slight smile.

"You followed me out here?"

"My meditation often brings me here, it is easier to find solace when people aren't knocking on your door all night." He looked at her from the corner of his eye.

"I can activate the sound proofing in your room, if you'd like."

"That will not be necessary, though I appreciate the offer. I am more comfortable being aware of what is going on around me."

"I can understand that. Self-security is very important."

"It is, as long as it doesn't interfere with your life to a point that it makes you miserable."

"Is that what you think I'm doing?"

"I think you are fighting with your self over something I can not fully comprehend," Teyla spoke softly.

"Is this the part where you tell me that I'll always be the same Rodney and need to not worry about what others think of me?"

"You already know that, but if you need me to say it for you then I can."

"Not necessary." He kept staring at the water and her gaze drifted to look at his fingers flexing strongly on his arms, as if holding himself back.

"I will stand guard if you wish to swim."

"Not necessary," he said sharply and quickly took a step back from the waters edge, his head bowed in a way that did not do justice to his stature. She nodded in acceptance, knowing that it would never be that easy with Rodney McKay.

"If you decide that you ever do want a guard, you can always come to us," she stood tall, offering her full support and he met her eyes a moment, nodding. "You are our family Rodney, we will never hurt you willingly."

"I think I'd prefer it if we all just remained friends. Family's what got me into this mess in the first place," he grimaced and turned away, beginning to head back inside. She did not know what he meant by that, but she didn't like what it inferred as she fell into step beside him. They walked in silence until they reached his quarters, just around the corner from her own, and she once again took his attention.

"I will see you in the morning for breakfast," she stated and he nodded and stepped into his room, no doubt to work on his computer. He would not skip breakfast as it was their tradition to always eat together before a mission. She had seen him safely back to his room, she just hoped he'd be able to find some sleep this evening. There was nothing more she could do at this moment, so she retreated back to her own quarters to rest. Hopefully he would feel better in the morning. Hopefully they all would.

TBC

Thanks to everyone for all the absolutely wonderful comments!! There is more fun to come…at least for us…


	6. Unnatural

**Chapter 6: Unnatural**

The standard bandaids in his med kit had been replaced with images of a red-headed mermaid and a yellow fish. He resisted the urge to throw them away, instead shoving them back where he pulled them from with a growl. How they even had those bandaids in Atlantis in the first place he had no idea, and frankly he didn't want to know who originally owned them, because he would never be able to respect them again.

"Problem, McKay?" Sheppard asked, glancing over from checking his water bottle and Rodney shook his head negatively.

"Nothing that a little maturity and having an actual brain couldn't fix." He stood and swung his vest over his jacket, zipping it up and shifting until it was comfortably settled. "I'm good to go," he announced and then began tapping his foot impatiently as the rest of his team finished their own equipment checks.

"Great. McKay's ready so we can leave now," Sheppard announced to Ronon and Teyla, rolling his eyes.

"I was simply trying to point out that if you were a little more competent we would already be underway and home by now."

"When we went to P3X 2RE can you tell me why it took an extra three hours before we got our mission underway? Something about you and not having any clean pants?" Sheppard drawled in that irritating way and Rodney glared at him.

"I can't even remember my scientists' names and you expect me to remember some random planets address?"

"You remember all the planets addresses, McKay. If you could you'd name your scientists by code to keep them straight."

"That idea didn't go over very well with Elizabeth," he agreed, admitting defeat even as Sheppard gave the signal to dial the gate.

This would be their first mission since Rodney had been cleared for duty and he shifted from one foot to the other, impatient to be underway. It wasn't until he stepped out on the other side of the gate that he breathed a sigh of relief. He'd been waiting all morning for Sheppard, Elizabeth or Carson to change their minds about keeping him on the team and scrapping the mission. He hated to admit, even to himself, how relieved he was that hadn't been the case.

"Do you mind getting out of the way?" An irritated voice burst out over his shoulder and he stiffened, recognizing the voice immediately though not knowing the soldier by name.

"Oh, I'm sorry, is the empty five feet of space on either side of me not enough room for you to manoeuvre around?" He didn't move, feeling satisfied as the soldier stepped around him, ignoring how she raised her weapon a little higher in anger. He was too focused on his scanners readings to see the sharp look Sheppard tossed their way. "There's a village over there," he pointed behind the gate, into to odd looking forest.

"Oh! Those trees look like they belong to the Bambusoideae family!" Sarah, the tree hugger they were bringing along on this mission, practically jumped up and down beside him. He rolled his eyes, feeling better than he had in almost two weeks despite the heat of the planet.

"Yes yes, you can take all the samples you want when the guard dogs decide that it's safe to proceed," he started walking to the other side of the gate without waiting for them and held back a grin as Sheppard stepped up causally beside him.

"It wouldn't hurt to take your own advice once in a while would it?" He grumbled as he looked around for danger.

"Relax Colonel, this is the planet of the giant bamboo, what could go wrong?"

An hour later Sheppard would have bitten McKay's head off for saying those words if he wasn't tied to a post made of said bamboo.

"What could go wrong?" he growled at McKay, pulling at his wrists and feeling the rough rope scrape away small patches of his skin. They were strung up like sacrifices at the edge of the town, a river flowing in front of them and what looked like the entire populace gathered around, speaking in harsh tongues.

Two poles over Rodney squirmed, sweat trickling down the side of his face from the hot sun.

"Are we going to seriously talk about how words can come back to bite our asses right now? Shouldn't you be working on a way to get us out of this?"

Sheppard was trying, he really was, but his ropes weren't giving an inch and he was losing feeling in his hands. On his left Ronon growled fiercely, pulling viciously at his bindings until the five men guarding him shoved their spears at him, drawing a line of blood at his neck. For a moment Sheppard's vision clouded red as the runner was threatened, but they backed off once the man stopped moving so harshly.

This was absolutely ridiculous. Introductions had been going fine until a child had pointed at something hanging out of Dr. Ramirez's pack. The warrior's of the tribe had thrown little darts tipped with a paralyzing agent so fast that nobody had even known what was happening until they were toppling over like lopsided dominoes. It had only been a matter of stripping away all their weapons and vests and tying them up before they had regained all their functions. It had been enough to completely incapacitate them.

"Why do I never see this coming?" He wondered out loud.

"You're asking me?! I think we all know how bad I am with people, Colonel," Rodney snapped.

"No, I wasn't actually asking you McKay." Sheppard looked at the men with spears and then at Ronon's sagging body and angry eyes. It looked like the spears were tipped with the paralyzing agent as well. Great.

"Excuse me?" He called out loudly, trying to get the attention of the crowd. "If somebody could tell us what we did to offend you we could apologize and get this all sorted out." The entire tribe turned to look at him at once and he quickly tried on a sincere, innocent grin. It didn't seem to work as they went back to their discussion, but hey, now they were speaking English. Huh, that was…polite of them. It was just too bad he didn't much care for the topic of conversation.

"It is not acceptable on any level! They have murdered without permission!" A woman yelled, tossing a sample bag that held a small bamboo sapling, pulled from the ground only half an hour earlier by Dr. Ramirez.

"Are you serious? This is about a tree?"

"Shut up, McKay," he hissed.

"You venture here stealing from our forests, our family!" The woman yelled. She was clean, her hair pulled back in a series of neat braids and wearing a well fitted leather outfit. She had tattoos covering her arms and legs and carried what looked like a short sword. She looked angry, and she wasn't the only one.

"We didn't mean to steal anything from you," he began to placate her, only to be cut off.

"You don't mean to steal yet you rip things from the land willingly!" A man joined her, sharp eyes piercing his.

"We didn't mean any harm by it, we just wanted to learn more about it."

"Then you should have asked it, not killed it."

"Oh my god, they're crazy," Rodney moaned and Sheppard resisted the urge to try and kick him, even from this distance.

"Shut up, McKay! Before you get us all killed!" Singer suddenly snapped out and Sheppard whipped his head around to glare at her.

"That is enough, Sergeant!" He ordered and watched as she snapped her mouth shut and tried to stand taller. She didn't loose the glare though, and it was aimed at McKay. Great, he needed to worry about whatever was going on between McKay and her on top of trying to get them all out of this. If either of them said anything to make this situation worse-

"Retribution must be made," The leader stood from her place just in front of them, a wave of her hand cutting off the crowd's angry protests at his team's apparent atrocities. The beads on her arms rattled along with the beads on her staff and she turned sharp, appraising eyes on them, resting on Dr. Ramirez the longest. The young doctor squirmed under the attention, her eyes wide with fright.

"We didn't know, I swear. I love plants! They're my life!"

"If you truly loved them you would never hurt them so," she said severely and turned back to her people, who were waiting in silence for her judgement. "Retribution must be made," she announced again and Sheppard didn't like where this was going. "We shall punish she who performed the deed." Ramirez gasped in fear.

"You can't punish her! She had no idea she was breaking your idiotic cultural taboos! She's innocent."

"She is not innocent. Call the elder!" The woman yelled out and the crowd parted as an old man came shuffling from out of his sturdy hut.

"She is so innocent! Look at her! How can she be anything but innocent!" Rodney yelled, suddenly yanking at his bonds again.

"You can't do this," Sheppard ordered, sounding as confident, demanding and dangerous as he could as two guards began approaching her.

"You should have thought about that before letting her murder our forest, our life force."

"Your life force? They're trees!"

"We are connected to everything within our planet, it is the way of all things. You have all lost your paths, you have all become unnatural." The bead woman looked regretful about this, but determined.

"The only one unnatural here is him!" Singer growled, jerking her head across the line. There were three men in her glance, but they all instinctively knew that it was McKay she was speaking of. He paled instantly.

"That is enough, soldier. You will not say another word," Sheppard spit out coldly, feeling a wash of fury roll over him as he tried to cut her down with a look. She shut up instantly and this time seemed to shrink back, turning her eyes away. She had just stepped so far over the line it could never be considered okay, and his look had clearly said all that.

"She's right," McKay suddenly called out and John jerked back to look at him. Jesus, he was going to get whiplash.

"She is not right, Rodney," Teyla came as close to growling as Sheppard had ever heard her, her eyes fixed on McKay though he was only looking at the tribes leader.

"I was the one who ordered her to take the tree," he said with a shaky voice. "She was acting under my direct orders, and as such I am the one ultimately responsible."

"Very well, then you shall be punished in her turn." The guards instantly moved to McKay and cut his bindings, quickly grabbing an arm each between them as they dragged him to their leaders side. "Retribution shall be swift: a life for a life." The crowd seemed to think that was fair as they stood taller, silently nodding their heads.

"Life for a life? Aren't we going a little far here? My mass and intellect far outweigh a tree! My life is nowhere on par with that! I am so far above that I'm, I'm, I'm a human being damn it! Are you people all crazy?!"

"I am sorry, but it is the only way. Elder, cast your tokens, ask which spirit shall be appeased."

"Our people," Sheppard spoke carefully, reigning in his anger, his fear, "do not follow your ways and were ignorant to them. This punishment is not acceptable for the level of our crime. Do not do this." She looked at him and shrugged slightly before looking out at the crowd. She was going to kill McKay to fucking appease her people.

"We are a powerful people with skills far beyond your dreams," Teyla tried to get her attention to no avail and Sheppard tugged harshly at his bindings, not noticing the blood trickling down his arms and soaking into his shirts sleeves.

"I will come back and end you if you do this," he said, feeling cold fold over him like a blanket as he stared at her. Her back stiffened at the tone but she did not turn around. He looked at McKay, feeling utterly helpless, as the old man threw his 'tokens' in the air and watched them fall. God, McKay…Sheppard's chest was tightening in his panic. Rodney looked at him with fear, swallowing thickly before turning his back to them so they couldn't see his face anymore.

"The spirits of the water shall be appeased, for the water provides the essence of life, ultimately deciding who shall live and who shall wither." The old man croaked, pointing a shaking hand at Rodney

"Water?" Rodney jerked, twisting to look at the man, his eyes wide.

"Water?" Sheppard said, ceasing all his struggling. Beside him Ronon remained still, having been poked a few more times by the spears.

"The water spirits give and take away, so it shall be," the woman pointed her staff at the river and the two guards began pulling Rodney to it.

"They are going to drown him" Teyla said softly and Sheppard never thought he'd feel relieved that a friend of his was about to be drowned, but thank god! Rodney got halfway to the river before he remembered to put up a fight.

"You can't be serious! Don't do this! What is wrong with you people?!"

"I am sorry it has come to this. A life for a life, your ignorance will be cured, the death avenged."

"It's a TREE!" Another guard joined the two dragging him to the rivers edge, and he kicked out Rodney's legs as they stopped at the end. Sheppard was yanking at the rope again, having severe issues with what was happening, despite knowing it would be okay. God, he hoped this would turn out okay.

"Let go of me! You can't! You-" They shoved his entire upper body into the water and held him down. Rodney struggled, hard. He almost managed to overbalance one man as a fourth joined them, splashing everywhere. Two of the guards had stepped into the river now, the water flowing around their knees as Rodney thrashed, his legs trying to find purchase. It wasn't long before his struggling weakened and then he stopped moving altogether. His entire upper body bobbed in the shallow water, his feet limply dragging on the embankment, acting as his last tether to dry land.

When the men carried his body out and lay it down, they did so gently, turning his face to the sky before backing away. The entire village was quiet now, staring at the body and then at the people tied to the posts. Sheppard stared at Rodney, looking for any sign that he was okay, but he just lay there like a corpse, water gathering around him in a pool. What if Rodney wasn't really okay? He swallowed thickly, feeling suspended in a place of pain and relief and he didn't know which direction to take. Please let it be relief. He couldn't go through this twice.

"You have threatened my people," the leader suddenly spoke, turning hardened eyes back to him, forcing his attention back to her.

"You just killed one of mine, who do you think has the higher standing here?"

"We live in a land with much threat, in a time of much fear. I can not allow you to live knowing that you wish us harm." She walked over to stare down at Rodney a moment, before looking back. "The fire spirits shall claim you, and burn away your malice. I hope that you will find your peace-" she choked, her words cut off as a strong arm suddenly wrapped tightly around her throat, her own her sword being pressed to her neck. John had been so focused on glaring at her he hadn't noticed Rodney move.

"This is getting ridiculous even for us!" Rodney coughed as the entire tribe took a collective step back.

"He lives!" the elder gasped.

"No thanks to you!" Sheppard saw that Rodney's hand was shaking where he held the tribal leader, her eyes wide as she froze, not knowing what to do.

"He is kin to the water spirits," the old man was crowing and a keening began to flow from the crowd.

"Please forgive us! We did not know, we did not know! We were only doing as our laws abide." The woman in his arms suddenly seemed a lot older, a lot more fearful.

"Yes, well consider this a test, one that you failed. Now release my people and give back all of their belongings." Sheppard had never seen guards move that fast to comply with a prisoners orders, though he supposed having McKay come back from the dead might have a lot to do with it.

He threw on his tack vest and picked up his weapons quickly before moving to aim it at the leader. He stared at the woman who was pulled tightly into Rodney's chest. The scientists arm looked like it could choke the life out of her with ease and the fear in her eyes told John she believed it would.

"You can let go now Rodney, we're okay." He quietly ordered.

"Right, right," he tossed the sword a few feet away before he pulling away from her, stepping back as though touching her made him physically ill.

"I implore your forgiveness." She immediately twisted around to look at him, her eyes threatening tears.

"Well if I abided by your laws I would have to say that ignorance is not an excuse," Rodney moved quickly between Sheppard and Teyla, and glared at her. She was as white as a sheet and one step from falling to her knees. Some of her tribe had already done just that, and not one spear was raised at any of them any more. "Fortunately for you I actually have a brain and a better idea of the value of life. Now get out of our way, we wish to leave. If you follow us I will not be so forgiving."

She merely nodded and they marched out of camp, Ronon swearing under his breath the whole way as his limbs still weren't cooperating with him completely. Sheppard moved right up beside Rodney and put a hand on his elbow to steady him as he tripped.

"You okay?"

"What do you think?"

"I think I'm fucking glad you're a fish, otherwise I'd be committing genocide right about now."

"You mean you'd still be tied to a post right now."

"I'm serious McKay, you all right?"

"I'm fine," he insisted, but he wouldn't look at Sheppard and his forehead was wet from sweat now instead of water. Sheppard frowned. Just behind them Dr. Ramirez followed silently with Ronon and Singer taking the rear. Teyla was ahead of them, moving without a sound and looking decidedly deadly at the moment. Anyone who tried to stop them right now would be suicidal. Sheppard double checked McKay's scanner to be sure they were alone. By the time they reached the gate Rodney was looking a little flushed and his hands were still shaking as he dialled the address. The moment they were in Atlantis Sheppard turned and looked at him directly.

"What's wrong?"

"Does near death experience ring a bell?" the scientist snapped back and took a step away from him and Teyla, who was also watching with concern.

"What happened?" Elizabeth stepped up beside them, frowning at Rodney's wet and dishevelled appearance before focusing on Sheppard.

"The inhabitants don't like it when we pick their flowers. They tried to kill us."

"Is everyone okay?" She looked sharply at each member, lingering a moment on Sheppard's bloody wrists, before her eyes came to rest on McKay, who looked even more uncomfortable under their collective scrutiny.

"I'm fine!" he snapped, wringing his hands together. He was still sweating in the cooler air of Atlantis.

"How about you let the doctor determine that," Sheppard decided.

"Fine. But I'm getting a new change of clothes first," he gestured at his still wet attire. "I'm chafing in places that don't need mentioning." Rodney turned quickly then, wobbling a bit before regaining his balance, and stormed out. Sheppard instantly looked over at the rest of the team, his eyes zeroing in on Singer as she stood beside Ramirez. He walked right into her personal space, staring hard into her eyes and not able to find the words to even begin describing how furious he was with her. He was so far beyond furious at this point. She stood tall, but was having trouble keeping eye contact and instead chose focused at a spot over his shoulder. It was taking a lot of restraint not to hit her right now, not to pound on her until she was nothing more than ground beef. Nobody risked his team's life like that, especially not one of his soldiers.

"Sergeant Singer, you are removed from active duty. Go to your quarters and don't come out until you receive further orders," he bit out, barely moving his lips.

"Yes, sir." She nodded sharply and left quickly, the silence of the entire gateroom following her out.

"Colonel?" He turned to Elizabeth.

"I'll explain in the debriefing, but for now I need to make sure McKay actually goes to the infirmary."

"Will you all be okay?"

"We'll manage."

"Then get to the infirmary. I'll have them send a doctor to do the post mission on Singer in her quarters."

He nodded and left, hoping that McKay had gone to see Carson as he was told. The rest of his team followed silently, but he could feel the tension they all carried.

That had been too close.

TBC.


	7. Secrets of a Child

**Chapter 7: Secrets of a Child**

When McKay failed to show up to the infirmary after twenty minutes John's moods were shifting between concerned and pissed off. Carson seemed to be in the same state as he carefully finished wrapping the last dressing around his wrist even whilst glancing at the doors. When he finished John looked around to note that everyone had been fixed up, had their blood taken, and been fed their round of antibiotics like good little patients.

Ronon was watching him expectantly, no doubt waiting for instructions to go and drag the scientist down here himself. While that was something John would normally have no problem ordering the big man to do, he knew that this time they had to be more careful with McKay. He had the feeling that the usual bullying and forceful tactics would do nothing more than make McKay even more defensive and evasive and that was just unacceptable at this point.

Besides, he had no wish to see Rodney forcefully dragged anywhere right now after having watched him be dragged to that river only two hours ago.

Today there would be no more forcing McKay to do anything, and that was final.

He was just about to reach for his earpiece and not so politely ask McKay to get his ass down to the infirmary when Zelenka's voice interrupted the action.

"Colonel Sheppard?"

"Go ahead, Doc."

"Are you perhaps missing a scientist?" Sheppard looked to Carson, who was frowning at him as if it was his fault McKay hadn't followed orders. Seriously. Not everything the Canadian did was John's fault! Why people seemed to always accuse _him_…

"Not missing so much as temporarily misplaced. Is he with you at the labs?"

"He stopped in for a moment but has moved on to balcony at end of the hall." There was a moment's pause, which wasn't like Radek. "He is not looking so well. Your mission was not as successful as you'd hoped?"

"It could have gone better," he stated, knowing he was frowning. "I'll come get him."

"Thank you, Colonel."

"You need some help?" Ronon asked and stood taller. The big man was practically vibrating with energy that the walk back to the Stargate had done nothing to diminish, and John understood how he felt. Right now he wanted nothing more than to punch something. Repeatedly.

"I'll call if I do. Doc, you'll have your patient in a few minutes," he announced and Carson's worry, while not going away, did seem to diminish a bit. Sheppard didn't wait for any response though, because if Zelenka, who had seen Rodney at his worst several times, thought he wasn't looking well then there was probably something to be concerned about.

When he reached the balcony reported to be supporting McKay Sheppard marched onto it without a second thought. His step faltered when he didn't see McKay immediately, and his eyes drifted to the thin, decorative railing. He knew exactly how far of a drop it was off this thing.

"I see Carson sent his Shepherd to round up his sheep already," the annoyed voice behind him bit out and John felt the tension just drain out of him as he turned around to face McKay. Then he looked down to see his friend sitting with his back to the wall, arms wrapped tightly around his drawn up legs and his face much paler than it should have been. His eyes narrowed as he took in the sweat that was dripping down the side of his face, and the darker stains that rested at the neck and armpits of his blue science shirt.

"Woof." He replied sarcastically as he stood over the man and then crossed his arms.

"Oh please, I'm not that late," Rodney huffed even as he seemed to pull his arms tighter around his legs.

"Considering your orders were to go to the infirmary immediately after changing I'd say you're pretty late."

"A few minutes won't hurt anyone, Colonel."

"That's not the way I'm seeing it, McKay," he looked pointedly at the sweat stains and Rodney shifted uncomfortably under the gaze, making no effort to stand up.

"Perhaps your eyes need checking," the smartass responded but he wasn't meeting his eyes now, which meant that Sheppard had scored that point.

"My eyes are fine." He sighed and then, after a moment's hesitation, sat down on the decking beside his friend. The evening was encroaching, the winds were picking up and the temperature was dropping. With the sun hidden behind the clouds it wasn't too warm out here, which is probably why Rodney had come here in the first place if he was running a fever. His eyes were a bit glassy.

"What are you doing out here, McKay? It's not like you to waste time, especially when you're sick."

"Is it too much to ask for a minute to regroup in privacy? I was drowned earlier today, you know," he snapped, looking away.

"Yeah, thank god for that," John replied sharply himself.

"Excuse me?" Rodney glared at him, his voice quiet.

"If they had decided to shoot you, or burn you at a stake, or throw you off a fucking cliff then you would have died, Rodney. So yeah, I'm pretty damn glad that they decided to drown you, because all it accomplished was giving you the edge to save all our asses in a very non dead way." He added, glaring at the stubborn man. When McKay failed to respond, instead looking out over the sea, John sighed and rubbed a hand through his hair.

"I find it difficult to hate a part of you that saved your life, Rodney," he said softly, trying to bring out the real issue here. "In fact I haven't had a single reason to dislike that part of you since you showed us in the first place. So why don't you tell me why you're out here instead of with Carson getting fixed up, because this is getting old."

"It's not that easy, Colonel," he kept staring out at the water, longing and hate mingling in his eyes. He sighed, hugged his knees tighter, opened his mouth, closed it and took another breath. John waited.

And waited some more.

"If I-" Rodney started and then stopped, trying to find the right words, which was so unlike him that John was getting more worried by the second. "When I walk through Atlantis now people look at me and they don't think 'hey, it's McKay' they think 'there goes the fish.'" Sheppard frowned. "It's no fault of their own," Rodney added with a frown. "It's a natural reaction. Sometimes it's too difficult to separate a person from their abnormality, they don't understand what it means, how to respond.

"Now, when I go into the infirmary it's not really me that people are seeing. They see the gills," he released one arm to point in the direction of said gills. "They see an interesting _specimen_, something different that they don't understand but want to. Right now Carson has been unbelievably good about it, but soon he's going to demand a closer look and it's not going to matter what I want because this is about understanding the science of it. And the funny thing is that I completely understand that. I do. But it's going to be difficult when people stop seeing me, and start seeing just the part of me that's interesting to them and that…I can't do that…" he trailed off. Fear was beginning to find its way onto his face and John felt stuck, swallowing thickly and trying to just find words to respond because this was…this was messed up.

"McKay…do you honestly think we'd do that to you? That Carson Beckett, the man who feels guilty studying a _wraith_ would ever do something like that to you? Goddamn it McKay." He forced out quietly, gaining Rodney's attention immediately. "We're your friends. We're your family and you think we'd betray you like that?"

"Family is the reason I'm in this mess in the first place, Colonel!" He hissed back, anger flooding his voice as he finally met John's eyes. "Or are you forgetting about the mother who loved me so much that she thought the genetic manipulation of my fucking embryo was a great idea!" he glared.

"I haven't forgotten that, Rodney." He said softly, sternly. Rodney didn't stop glaring.

"Good. Because she may have just been stupid at that time, or an idiot, or maybe she had no idea what she was doing, but she still did it." Rodney looked away and John watched his adams apple as he swallowed thickly. "She still did it. And after Jeannie…she wasn't stupid anymore. She had grown up and she had no more excuses," he practically growled. John looked at him carefully.

"I thought you said Jeannie had nothing to do with this."

"She didn't," Rodney snapped, and then sighed. "She doesn't. She was just born, and there is nothing wrong with that." He paused, taking a breath. "It almost killed my mom though. She almost died and you know what her response was? She panicked. Ha. Now I guess you know where I get _that_ particular trait from."

"Seems like a pretty reasonable response," John hedged.

"Maybe. Maybe it was," Rodney rubbed at his eyes, wiped some sweat from his brow, then wiped his shaking hand on his pants. "But she didn't have to include me in her panic attack, did she? I mean, I didn't even know there was anything wrong with me. _She_ didn't know there was anything wrong with me. I was five years old!" He held out his hand violently, all fingers and thumb stretched wide to make his point. "Five."

John frowned.

"And she _gave_ me to them Sheppard. Picked me up from pre-school early one day and just walked me through their front door. She practically begged them to take me, asking them to make sure we were both _okay_ and _healthy_." His splayed hand turned into a fist. "When I came out of there I was the proud nephew of King Triton himself and she couldn't even look at me in the eye anymore." He sighed. "I remember what they did, in bits and pieces…" he trailed off.

"Sounds like she was trying to make sure you were okay?"

"Yeah. That first time, but that doesn't make it excusable. And when Dad found out he went through the roof and let's just say that family life took a good old nose dive from there."

"First time?" Sheppard's voice sharpened and Rodney looked at him quickly, eyes flashing in surprise for a moment before bitterness returned.

"The company doing the experiments obviously weren't the most…honourable of companies. When I was twelve I got sick. They were watching me I guess. Mom was away teaching at this point, I guess she couldn't handle the home life. We'd moved to the States by then and Dad panicked. When they approached him, telling him I could die if he didn't let them help me… I guess he supposed it was the safer path of two evils. It took a month for him to get me back," he barked out a laugh. "The man had trouble meeting my eyes before that, he didn't know what to do with me, but after he could barely stand to be in the same room."

"Didn't anyone wonder why you were missing?"

"Please. You've seen how easy it is to cover things up. A few well placed lies and no one worries. When Jeannie asked where I'd gone he'd told her I was visiting an aunt in Vancouver. I was home before the end of the school year, long before mom was. I don't know if he ever told her, and frankly I didn't care because at that point I knew I couldn't trust either of them." Sheppard's gut was rolling and he had managed to bite away part of his cheek in anger. He tasted the coppery blood on his tongue, and swallowed thickly.

"So you can understand why I don't really trust family." He added on like an afterthought and John sat there in silence a moment, horror, disgust and shock all vying for attention within him until anger joined the mix. The anger won.

"So that's what you think of us?" he asked quietly and Rodney looked at him, startled. "You think so badly of us that you'd lump us into the same category as your parents?"

"You said family…"

"And I meant family, Rodney. Family, as in the people who actually care despite everything. Family, as in the people who will put you first, who want to help _you_ because you're important to them. Do you really think that badly of us that we'd just…just…do _that_ to you? After everything? We are not ignorant assholes McKay. I thought you knew that!" Rodney stared at him with wide eyes.

"Pull your head out of your ass, Rodney. If you stopped thinking about how all of this affects only you then you would have realized all of this by now." He crossed his arms, glared at his friend, the most stubborn, selfish and possibly fucked up individual John had ever met, before looking back out at the water. It was silent for a few minutes before Rodney snorted, bringing a hand up to rub his forehead.

"Pull my head out of my ass? I tell you about the worst experiences of my _life_ and you tell me to pull my head out of my ass?" John couldn't help the sudden laugh that startled out of him, making him sound like a freaking donkey, but Rodney was a piece of work.

"It seems to be lodged up there pretty damn far."

"Well, then I suppose it's a good thing I have you around to help pull it out," he replied, rolling his eyes when John looked at him. Then he unwrapped his arms and began moving to stand. John quickly moved to his own feet and offered him a hand, noting the heat coming off of him with a frown. When Rodney was finally on two feet again, after swaying a moment, John took a look at him.

"You look like a steamed squid."

"Thanks for that," Rodney snapped back with no real heat. He was about to move away when John stopped him, the notion to say something more, something important, died on his lips when he noted that Rodney's shirt was wet around his sides as well. He frowned.

"Lift your shirt, McKay," he ordered.

"Yes yes, I understand that you accept me for who I am, you don't need to go proving-"

"Lift your shirt or I'll do it myself," he cut his friend off and Rodney, frowning, did as he was told. They both frowned as they looked at his gills, which were reddened and leaking a watery, milky like substance. If it was possible McKay actually seemed to pale even further. "I think it's time we saw Carson," John announced as he pulled the shirt back down when Rodney looked like he was just going to continue staring.

"Yes. Yes, good idea."

When they walked through the doors to the infirmary Carson's irritated face turned to concern the moment he saw Rodney and he pointed at a bed and began pushing over a table loaded down with tools of his trade.

"He's running a fever, sweating, and has a milky discharge coming from his gills," John announced efficiently.

"Right then, off with yer shirt Rodney." Rodney didn't seem to hesitate at all this time as he sat down and did as asked, despite the two nurses coming over to help. They didn't even blink as they began assessing his vitals, Carson got to work asking questions, and John stepped away from the crowd.

A few minutes later Ronon and Teyla entered the infirmary and stood by John. One glance at Ronon's shuttered face and Teyla's look of deep concern and John frowned.

"You were at the balcony?" He stated more than asked.

"We wanted to be there if you needed help."

"You heard us?"

"We did." He was silent a moment.

"Okay." And it was, even if Rodney hadn't meant for his words to be overheard. It would be easier with Ronon and Teyla understanding where he was coming from. They were a family after all.

It turns out that the water on that planet contained bacteria that didn't agree with Rodney's system. At all. An hour after they entered the infirmary found Rodney staring in fear at a large tub that had been filled to the brim with water and antibiotics and other necessary medications. Carson had cleared everybody out of that area of the infirmary with strict orders to only contact them if there was an emergency. Teyla and Ronon were there, but standing at the far wall. Teyla looked slightly amused and Ronon just looked bored again.

Rodney, standing there in nothing but a towel (wrapped up to his armpits), still dripping from the soap free shower Carson had just made him take, was staring at the water.

"Ye need to flush yer system Rodney," Carson looked like he feared McKay would run away the second his back was turned. Sheppard was being helpful and holding his elbow to make sure he didn't fall down, since he didn't look too sturdy.

"I know that," he snapped, still staring at the water. "Is it really necessary for you to all be here?"

"We've already sent Ronon and Teyla to the other side of the room," John gripped his arm a little tighter and Rodney glared at him.

"Excuse me if I don't care for the idea of having an audience."

"Consider them extra support, in case you get cold feet." John grinned at him.

"I'm not going to run away, Colonel," he growled and John loosened his hand a bit even as Rodney turned to glare at the two across the room. "Would you two turn around, this isn't a free show."

"We've seen it before, McKay," Ronon informed him with a smirk, looking pointedly at Rodney's cloth covered groin before turning to face the wall like a child being punished. Teyla did the same, but John saw the smile she was trying to hide.

"Well, I'd like to limit viewings as much as possible," Rodney snapped and then glared at Carson and John for good measure. "That goes for you two as well." At Carson's rolled eyes he huffed, and then dropped the towel, muttering about not being allowed to wear _anything_. He was unsteady so it took the support of both men, who had taken previous care to properly sterilize their own arms, to help him sit and then lay down under the water. John watched his face, noting that Rodney was keeping his eyes closed, not looking up at them. But his hand didn't release the death grip he had on John and John didn't try to pull away for even a second.

TBC.

One more chapter to go!


	8. Solving the Problem

**Chapter 8: Solving the Problem**

Rodney felt better. Much better, actually, than he had even prior to the mission that ended with ritualistic drowning (and he doubted Sheppard was going to let him forget that one for a while). Yet despite this he couldn't help but wonder if he had somehow damaged his brain and none of them had noticed yet. Because he never used to cave in to suggestions of sparing so quickly.

"You need to pay more attention to your surroundings," Ronon informed him after he backed too close to the wall, narrowing his options of escape.

"We're in a large, empty room with nothing but a door into Atlantis, or a door onto its balcony. What else do I need to be aware of here?" He glared and quickly bounced around the Satedan, trying to get back into the centre of the room while carefully keeping his back away from the man. Ronon noticed the action and grinned, apparently happy that his advice had been heeded, if silently.

He stalked (yes Ronon stalks, it's the only way the man walks!) back towards Rodney, turning slightly so the red flag sticking out of the back of his pants was noticeable. Teasing him. Rodney glanced at it quickly before jerking back to watch his opponents face. He needed to get that flag, and then this sparring/wrestling/exercise whatever this was would be over. Because frankly, an hour of being knocked down, shoved against walls, blocking punches and kicks and having the Satedan actually _sit on him_ had been quite enough as far as Rodney was concerned. He had no intention of continuing for another hour, thank you very much.

And also? Training his ass! This was an exercise devised as punishment for the marines and Ronon was simply testing it on him to see if it was suitable. What Rodney had done to deserve it he hadn't quite figured out yet and the behemoth was not telling him regardless of how many times he'd asked.

"Come on, McKay, I've seen how quick you can be when you have to."

"Yeah, you're forgetting that right now, technically, I don't have to," he snapped, wiping a bead of sweat away from his eyebrow with the back of his hand. Ronon lunged and Rodney quickly dropped his arm, prepared for the response. It didn't do him much good as three seconds later he was sitting on his ass (again) and Ronon was holding up the blue flag that had been tucked into his own pants only moments before.

"Okay, that's it. Time out." He was not begging, even if Ronon smirked at him as he helped him to his feet, handing back the flag.

"Not until you get the flag."

"Are you serious? We've already determined that eleven times out of ten you're going to win," he threw his arms up in disgust.

"It's not about winning. It's about training your instincts."

"My instincts are just fine," he snapped, grabbing the flag out of the big mans hand and roughly tucking it back into his pants. "In fact, my instincts have saved us on several occasions if I recall correctly."

"We could go running instead," Ronon suggested.

"Or you could go running and I could go take a shower," Rodney suggested right back. Ronon folded his arms across his chest, his tattoo standing out and catching Rodney's attention for a moment. Then he looked at the irritation on his team members face and swallowed thickly. "Or we could keep playing your 'grabby hands' game. You sure this is the one you want to introduce to the marines? They might get the wrong impression."

"Marines? You want to get them involved?"

"Never mind," Rodney sighed, and quickly grabbed his water bottle, taking a drink before offering it to Ronon, who shook his head.

"We could go for a swim instead," he suggested and Rodney nearly dropped the bottle, before carefully placing it back on the bench. He moved quickly back into the centre of the room and took up his fighting stance.

"This is just fine," he insisted, and then lunged at Ronon, hoping that it would distract the man. His attack was easily dodged.

"You're going to have to do it at some point," Ronon stated knowingly, taking a few shots that Rodney was able to block and hop out of the way on. Rodney recognized the man was playing now, biding his time, making Rodney work for it.

"This isn't a topic I want to discuss right now," Rodney lunged again, trying to feint to his right and then take out Ronon's knee with a not so swift kick. It didn't work.

"Why not? We've discussed it before."

"No, you've tried to discuss it and I've told you it's irrelevant-"

"-because you're going to let your gills grow over, yeah, you've mentioned that a few times."

"Right, so can we just forget about it? Please?" Ronon lunged this time, grabbing Rodney's arm and trying to twist him around. Rodney reached out for his free arm, grabbing at the wrist (barely getting his own grip around it) and stepping in close, trying to shove him off balance. For a few seconds they pitted strength against strength, Rodney feeling it all as his limbs began to shake in desperation. Then Ronon stepped easily to the side and separated them, not making any effort to get Rodney's flag. He wasn't even winded and Rodney, panting from the effort, glared at him.

"You want to forget about it because you're afraid," Ronon decided and Rodney stiffened.

"I am not," he snapped, glaring.

"Then what's the problem?"

"I told you, they serve no practical use-"

"Which, judging by the last few weeks, is a lie," Ronon cut him off, raising a thick eyebrow in challenge to his statement.

"The last few weeks just happened to be a coincidence that will most likely never happen again."

"You should go swimming, McKay."

"Can we please not talk about this…"

"It's not healthy to deny a basic instinct."

"I'm not denying anything, I'm simply ensuring the safety of not only myself, but the others on my team." Rodney snapped, glaring pointedly at Ronon.

"So what you're saying is you still don't trust us enough to be yourself." Ronon lunged, grabbing Rodney by the shoulders and slamming him down on the matted floor. He immediately let go and stalked off somewhere behind Rodney's head. Rodney, angry and now tired beyond belief, made no immediate effort to get up.

He knew Ronon was mad at him, that he didn't understand why Rodney wasn't giving in to his need to swim. Sometimes Rodney didn't know himself, it was just an instinct that was ingrained from years of experience. It had nothing to do with trust. Hadn't he already proven that by letting them help him in the first place? He'd willingly lain naked in a tub, breathing water, in front of them three days ago. He didn't get much more vulnerable than that. Wasn't that enough proof that he trusted them?

"I trust you," he sighed, staring at the ceiling. "It's more complicated than that."

"Sure it is." He heard the sound of the balcony door sliding open and something being dropped. He looked over to see Ronon stalking back towards him, a determined gleam in his eye.

"What are you doing?" He looked over at the balcony, the warm breeze mingling with the cooler air of their work out area. Rodney began to hurriedly push to his feet, feeling his sweat soaked t-shirt peel off the floor as he moved.

"Solving the problem," Ronon answered and then he just grabbed Rodney and tossed him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. For half a second he was too surprised at the handling to protest, until Ronon began moving towards the balcony.

"What are you doing? Put me down!" He pressed his palms to Ronon's back and tried to push off. Ronon swung his free arm behind his back and somehow managed to grab both of Rodney's wrists, locking them in place. "Put me down you Neanderthal! This is not acceptable on so many levels!"

Rodney mentally demanded the door to shut and lock and realised, as they stepped over the threshold, that Ronon had placed his bag on the tracks. The sensors wouldn't close the door as long as something was in the way. Stupid safety parameters!!

"Put me down! Ronon! Are you even listening to me!"

"Sure I am, McKay. Trust me, I know what I'm doing."

"Oh! You are NOT…"

oooOOOooo

Dr. Parrish looked towards the balcony as he heard Dr. McKay begin yelling from the balcony above him. He didn't often come to this particular lab, seeing as all of his main equipment was located closer to the centre of the city, but when he needed peace and quite this was his area of solace. He'd always found it comforting to hear the sound of the water crashing gently into the city's walls just below him.

His peace was broken now and he cringed at the words McKay was yelling at Ronon. And then he blinked as a body went shrieking by his window and a giant splash was heard.

He waited a moment, not sure what to do, when McKay solved it for him.

"I can not believe you just did that!! You…you…you gimpy brained barbarian!"

"Relax McKay, you're not going to drown."

"That's beside the point!"

"That _is_ the point" Ronon shouted back. Parrish wisely decided to remain where he was, gently asking the doors to his own balcony to slide shut before tapping his radio.

"Colonel Sheppard?"

"Go ahead," the soldiers cheery voice chirped through the radio, loud enough to hurt the scientists ear.

"It's Dr. Parrish. I thought you should know that Ronon just threw Dr. McKay off a balcony."

There was a pause.

"Is that so?"

"It is."

"Okay then. Thanks for the update."

"No problem." He went back to studying the alkaline levels in his current soil sample.

oooOOOooo

Sheppard turned off his radio and thought about what Parrish had just told him.

Huh.

He then looked over at Elizabeth, who had just followed a grinning Radek out of her office. She was shaking her head bemusedly at the man and Sheppard looked between them as he stepped up to her side.

"Something I should know about?" She looked at him and huffed a laugh that was a cross between amusement and exasperation.

"Dr. Zelenka thought it would be a good idea to magnetize the ceiling of a few personel." She explained.

"Okay…" he didn't quite get it.

"The majority of their furniture is now stuck to their ceiling," she stated blandly.

John instantly grinned. He couldn't help it. She frowned at him.

"What? That's funny," he laughed, and turned it into a cough at her disapproval. "Do we know why he did that?"

"He wouldn't tell me. He just said it was necessary and smiled."

"Right." He looked at her and then handed over the files he'd come here specifically to deliver.

"Are these the files for Sergeant Singer?"

"Transfer papers," he nodded. Singer had problems, they knew that now. Atlantis wasn't the right place for her anymore and Sheppard wanted her gone on the next Daedalus run. It was a shame, but that was life. There was no room for people like her in his city. Weir nodded in understanding, her eyes unhappy but accepting.

"Well," he clapped his hands together suddenly. "I'm heading off duty for a bit. Call me if you need me," he gave her a grin of his own and wandered out of the control room. He would get in touch with Zelenka later and find out what the deal with the magnetization was, for now he had more pressing matters.

"Ronon?" He called into his radio.

"Yeah?"

"You throw McKay off a balcony?"

"Yeah."

"Any particular reason why?"

"He asked me to." Sheppard blinked at the response.

"Really?"

"Not in so many words, but yeah."

"I see. Are we going to have a situation here?" Sheppard asked, really hoping that that wasn't the case.

"Shouldn't. His radio's still working and he's swimming to the main cove. He should be there in about ten minutes." To those in Atlantis who liked to tan and swim, the main cove was also known as the beach. Of course most people were working right now so it should be deserted.

"Well, then I think we should meet him there," Sheppard said slowly, thinking.

"Okay. I'll tell Teyla," Ronon announced, as though he had expected the answer.

"Ronon, tell her to bring swim wear."

"Sure."

John changed quickly in his quarters, pulling his baggy swim shorts (they were black with blue sharks all over them. There hadn't been anything else but speedo's in the store when he'd needed them and he shuddered at the thought). He ended up being the last one to arrive at the door to the beach, and he tried not to stare at Teyla, looking bronzed and perfect in her bold red one-piece. She occasionally pulled at the straps in discomfort but stopped when she noticed Ronon grinning at her. She smiled back, dangerously, and the big man looked away quickly.

With a quick greeting the three of them were marching out into the sun, only to see Rodney angrily sloshing his way onto the dry metal floor. His white shirt had gone see through and it looked like he was holding up his sweat pants with one hand.

He stopped the moment he saw them.

"What are you doing here?" He demanded, sounding a bit puzzled as he looked at them and their attire.

"We are going swimming Rodney," Teyla said smoothly, smiling. "Care to join us?" and she stepped past him, heading to the water he had just exited. Rodney looked baffled.

"What? You can't be serious?" He squeaked.

"Gotta do it some time, McKay," Sheppard shrugged, peeling off his own shirt to hide his sudden tension. If McKay walked away from this now…it just wouldn't be good. For any of them.

Rodney glared at them, water dripping down his face and his receding hairline was emphasized under the wet strands. He glared some more, and then looked back at Teyla, who was waiting patiently, knee deep in the water.

"Don't think this means you're getting away with what you did," he snapped at Ronon, and then stepped up to the big man, shoving a red bandanna into his hand. It was sopping wet and crunched into a ball and Ronon looked at it and laughed.

oooOOOooo

"Come on McKay! We're wasting daylight," Ronon hollered from across the beach, standing with his arms impatiently crossed. Teyla was beside him, looking phenomenally short standing next to the mountain of a man. Rodney couldn't tell if she was smiling as her back was to them, looking out at the water.

"What's the rush?" McKay grumbled, adjusting the knife strapped to his ankle, already irritated by the sand rubbing its way between his toes, and then glaring when Sheppard kicked some, not so accidentally, at his leg.

"They made him take a course before letting him do this. You know Ronon doesn't do courses," the soldier drawled, adjusting the scuba tank on his shoulders and gripping a pair of bright green fins. His mask was hanging around his neck and for a moment Rodney thought he looked like a huge, overgrown, dorky kid that had never heard of a hairbrush before.

"As if I care about that," Rodney looked back over at the impatient Satedan before sighing, double checking the zipper on his dive suit, and picking up his own fins. Black ones, because he had refused to come out here today if they tried to give him any other colour. Ronon's were pink, because when they had been ordering the fins in his size the colour may have been 'accidentally' changed on the order form. Unfortunately the big man hadn't seemed to care and Rodney supposed when one was as huge as Ronon was then they wouldn't worry about what the colour of their accessories would do to their reputation.

"All right, we're here already," he glared as they approached him and then looked out at the water. It was a calm day, the waves lapping at the beach were barely a foot high and the sun was shining boldly down on them. He was going to have the worst burn after this, he just knew it.

"Do you really need those?" Ronon looked pointedly at the fins Rodney carried, a gleam in his eye. "We won't tell anyone you don't need them."

"I do NOT have a FIN!" He snapped, and then rounded on Sheppard who was too slow to hide his grin. "And do you remember that picture I took on the planet with the fronds? The one with the tribe of the nipple people that liked your hair?" Sheppard's amused eyes turned dangerous in a second and Rodney grinned smugly at him.

"You said you deleted that photo."

"As if I would ever destroy such a valuable commodity," he snorted. "You should know better than that."

"If you know what's good for you then you had better have destroyed it."

"Or you'll what, replace the name plate on my desk?" Rodney didn't actually have a nameplate, or at least he hadn't until last week when he'd shown up after lunch to find his scientists studiously avoiding eye contact. The gold plated desk accessory boldly declared that the space belonged to 'Dr. Merman McKay.' It had immediately found a new residence at the back of his top drawer. The locked drawer.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Sheppard suddenly turned all innocent and then looked out at the water. Ronon decided he had waited long enough and turned around, marching through the waves, the bright pink fins on his feet splashing loudly with his progress.

"You're supposed to walk in backwards!" Rodney yelled after him, and was ignored. Teyla, looking rather hot in her sleek black suit, smiled at him before turning to the water herself and following Ronon's lead. Honestly, you would think _she'd_ at least have the sense to follow instruction.

"Ready for this?" Sheppard asked, suddenly trying to be supportive, which made him look like his balls were being crushed in his wetsuit as far as Rodney was concerned. However, he was touched by the question, and maybe a bit taken aback, though he should really know better by now.

"Please Colonel, of the four of us I'm the only one who isn't at risk of drowning today. Maybe you should have thought about that before suggesting this little excursion."

"Whatever you say, McKay," he grinned again, which was a much better look for him, and donned his goggles, the snorkel flapping around on the side of his face. "See you in the deep," he grinned, and moved into the water.

For a minute Rodney stood there and watched as his three team mates disappeared under the surface, the waves folding over their heads and swallowing them. In all the years he had lived he could count, too the hour, how long he had willingly spent under the water. He had never even been in the ocean, not for real. Not like this.

He had always known he could, it made no difference to him whether it was salt or fresh water, except for the taste. He had ignored the urge to swim whenever he was presented with a body of water, he had found ways to distract himself from it. In Atlantis he had his work, and that was the only thing that had kept him grounded enough, that kept him from giving in and just diving into the sea that surrounded him every single day. Fear had also been a pretty good motivator, and he was well aware that it still was.

But now, things were different. He never thought…this wasn't something he'd ever imagined would be possible, but here he was. For the first time it wasn't fear for himself that motivated him to stay away, but fear for others that had driven him forward.

And now, for this, he would never say that he was sorry. When the water finally closed over his head and he took his first deep breath, he opened his eyes to see his friends waiting for him. And he smiled.

End.

Well I have to say this was a lot of fun to write! Thank you very much to everyone who took the time to comment. Also thank you to everyone else who took the time to read (and hopefully enjoy) the story.

I know there were several people who were sceptical about this storyline at the beginning, and I hope I managed to sway your opinion into the good books by the end. :)

**This is not the end. **There is too much that can be done in this verse, and too many questions that still need answering. So we can call this the beginning of a 'series' and I'll try to spit more stories out as time permits :)

Thank you again


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